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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23629534">Wednesday Addams - Hogwart's Apprentice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simon_says_fly/pseuds/Simon_says_fly'>Simon_says_fly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Addams Family - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne &amp; Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apprentice - Freeform, Drama, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Politics, Sorceress, challenge, the year is 1999, world building</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:35:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>40,428</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23629534</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simon_says_fly/pseuds/Simon_says_fly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1999 and recent Ilvermorny Graduate and a transgender Witch, Wednesday Addams, has accepted an Apprenticeship to Hogwart's School for Witchcraft and Wizardry to become the next Sorceress.  Upon arrival in the United Kingdom, she is immediately swept up in the various political games that take place within Hogwart's and the Ministry of Magic.  She will also find herself drawn into the coming battle between the Dark and the Light which seems to be centered around the incarcerated Dark Lord, Tom Riddle, and the Boy-Who-Lived, Neville Longbottom.</p>
<p>Will Wednesday's secrets help or hurt her cause to become the next Sorceress of the Magical World?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>DISCLAIMER – <br/>To begin… this is a work of fan fiction.  It is in absolutely no way intended to be considered an attempt to presume ownership and/or infringement on the intellectual property of the rightful owners, creators and/or whomever else that may hold legal rights to anything and/or everything related to Harry Potter and The Addams family, or any of the other cameos thrown in at various points in the story.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>WARNING – <br/>The following story is rated “M” for Mature.  Readers should expect to most likely encounter topics that will include (but not limited to) violence, sexual content, sexual fluidity, homosexuality, transgenderism, politics, underage actions, abuse, religion, suicide, torture, murder, character death and/or other disturbing behaviors and actions… meaning there will be scenes and/or references to such.  This is intended to be a somewhat darker portrayal of the worlds of The Addams Family and Harry Potter.  If any of these possibilities and subject matters offend you, I would recommend that you find another story.</p>
<p>Thank you for reading…</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>PROLOGUE<br/>Memories of 1989</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mother and Father had gone out for the evening.  They loved going out on that night, Halloween, so my brother and I were left in the care of Grandma Del. </p>
<p>It was supposed to be a bedtime story… at least, that was what my grandmother had led me to believe, although looking back upon it now, it was really anything but something to get a willful child to relax and drift off into dreamland.  I hated going to sleep when it got dark.  Something out in the shadows, away from any sort of illumination, called to me.  I could hear it.  However, my family is a strange one, so who knows?  Maybe it was supposed to be exactly as she claimed.  Those Above and Below only knew the truth about what passed for sanity in my home growing up.</p>
<p>It probably did not help that she was extremely intoxicated.  Even at such a young age, I recognized the smell of cheap liquor.  I had sadly been exposed to such early in life.  It was not something one forgets when your very life might depend upon recognizing the signs.</p>
<p>So, there I was, all tucked in, clutching my favorite doll: Mary.  It might have seemed a strange sight to those not aware of how things worked in this house, but Mary was headless now, as were all of my dolls currently.  My brother had built a miniature guillotine and had been methodically going through my collection of dolls since he had already beheaded the entirety of his Star Wars collection of action figures.  I was not opposed to Mary being headless.  I still had the head.  My brother could separate them, but they were mine.  I did not want to think about why he wanted my dolls’ heads.  It was safely tucked away under my pillow.</p>
<p>Grandma Del often stared at me as if she was waiting for something.  I never really knew what it could be she expected.  I was not even ten yet, but there was a look in her eye.  She had the same look while relaying that night’s fable.</p>
<p>The story she told that night was one I had never heard before.  Nor since.  Months after the telling, I had asked my mother about the story, but she had never heard of it.  All requests to my grandmother, my father’s mother, for the bedtime tale again were rebuffed.  She claimed I dreamt the whole thing up, a child’s fancy, but Mary remembered the story.  I had secreted that poor doll’s head away to listen, as well, and she had.  It was just the two of us.</p>
<p>Father patted me on my head when I complained to him about the story.  Mother being no help.  I had hoped he remembered her telling it to him as a boy.  I recall his eyes full of life and joy at the asking, but he had shaken his head that he had never heard such a story.  He had pulled at my pigtails and said that his mother was as kooky as they came.  La strange, he had giggled.  Father told me to write it down; that maybe I could recreate it enough that it would be a story for the future generations of the Family.</p>
<p>Over the years, I have written the story repeatedly.  I refused to look at the pages written previously, instead trying to force myself to remember every detail possible as if writing it for the first time.  I have seventeen attempts at the story.  For over ten years, I have done everything I can to put proof to the strange and terrifying bedtime story told to me that Halloween night.</p>
<p>I graduate Ilvermorny’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry tomorrow, Class of 1998.  Top student this year.  Well, top student ever recorded since the institute’s founding, so top student for every year, I guess.  The witch prodigy they have been calling me.  They expect great things from me.  Great and terrible, as my Magical History teacher likes to say.  My scores are all anyone talks about currently.  In fact, there is a party being held in my honor.  I think it started a couple of hours ago.</p>
<p>As you can obviously discern, I am not attending.</p>
<p>I have decided to look through all of the copies of Grandma Del’s story that I have written over the years.  I want to see how much from each story matches.  What works?  What does not?  I decided that tonight, as a graduation present to myself, I was going to recreate that long ago bedtime story.  </p>
<p>Like all good bedtime stories, this tale began with ‘Once upon a time’, though the more I think about it, she said something more like ‘once, in a time no longer.’  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>…ooo000OOO * OOO000ooo…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once, in a time no longer here, a boy was born.  This story is about that boy, but to understand him, you had to know and understand his mother first.  And his daughter last.  Him somewhere in the middle.</p>
<p>The boy’s mother was a witch.  Yes, a witch of such grace and beauty and power that all that knew her loved her and the various wizarding princes of the lands sought after her, attempting to win her hand in marriage.  Balls and parties were held, allowing for each princely wizard from the surrounding magical kingdoms to present their gifts and offers, and the witch was happy.</p>
<p>Happiness is fleeting, however.  The gods sent a messenger, an oracle, that said that she could have her pick of princes to be her husband, and the land would rejoice for their time together, but she was not to bear a son, for a male child would bring death and destruction to the lands.  She and her wizarding prince would be the last rulers of their kingdom.  At hearing the cursed tidings, most princes fled, knowing that having no heir would doom their own magical kingdoms, which was a future that they refused.  The witch wept, for that even with all of her power and beauty, none would have her.  </p>
<p>One day, however, a handsome but lowly prince of a tiny mundane kingdom came, calling upon the witch, begging her to be his forever.  She looked upon his handsomeness and was pleased, so she accepted, and all was good.  Their non-magical kingdom prospered, and the kingdom was happy.  Eventually, however, the witch wanted to present her husband with an heir.  Her husband, the handsome prince, begged her to reconsider.  He said that he was content to rule with her by his side, and to one day allow his kingdom to be swallowed by their neighbors, but the witch persisted with her plan.  </p>
<p>She defied the gods and became pregnant with a son.  </p>
<p>The gods, seeing their divine will so defied, cursed the witch.  Their lands that had been so prosperous withered and died.  The people grew sick from hunger and disease, dying.  War broke out along the neighboring kingdoms, causing much strife and horror as entire villages fell to the spear and sword.  Blood ran thick into the dry soil.</p>
<p>Seeing that this did not break the witch, they caused her handsome prince to grow cold to her.  Where once they could rely upon each other, he now cast her aside.  His love fell to hate, and he cast her and their unborn child out into the street.  How could he love a witch?  She must have bespelled him to make him ever love her… and the abomination growing within her belly was a monster, not conceived out of love.  Hos seed stolen away.</p>
<p>The witch sought to return home, to seek refuge with those that had never turned her away, but in her time with the handsome prince, the gods had turned the townspeople against her wizarding family.  Her home was destroyed, her relatives imprisoned or dead.  The very earth salted as warning to any that would offer aid to their former princess.</p>
<p>The witch was alone.</p>
<p>The gods, in their terrible jealousy and anger at the witch, decided that her final torment would be the loss of that child, which she and the handsome prince had conceived in love.  The very folly that led to their anger and spite would be destroyed, murdered, and all that dared defy the gods in the future would hear of the witch’s punishment and remember to not turn away from those greater.  It was done, but the witch was powerful.  The witch was good.  The witch’s love would not be defied.</p>
<p>In squalor, dirty and homeless, attended by mid-witches of dubious nature, the witch gave birth to a stillborn son.  There was no newborn cry, but the witch would not give in so easily.  The gods’ final act of vengeance, but she chose to give over her entire being, all of it, her magic and her life and her destiny to her son, to prove the lie of their greatness.  The boy who lived.  </p>
<p>Fate changed that day as the powerful witch died and a powerful wizard was given life.</p>
<p>The boy would not know… not for many, many years, of the sacrifices his mother suffered to give him life.  He would grow up a pauper to the lowborn, never realizing the heritage that was his for the rightful taking… but so does the hero of every good story come from humble beginnings until the day that he can rightfully ascent to take his place upon the throne.  The boy grew.  His power as a wizard recognized eventually, though his heritage remained unknown.  He attended their schools and learned their ways, and while so much greater than all of the others, the boy was still considered an outcast.  An outsider.  Until one day, he chanced upon the knowledge of his family.  Of the powerful witch, that was his mother.  Of the mundane prince, that was his father.  And the boy began making his plans.</p>
<p>Over time, he grew to such renown.  That boy became a man that led others to victory after victory; all in defiance to gods that he cared nothing for and that he hoped to one day bring low.  Nothing would prevent that boy turned man from his own chosen destiny.</p>
<p>The gods are crafty, though.  Through the work of oracles, they found a way to twist the man’s fate, typing it to one that they so cruelly gave a destiny to another.  For all that the witch gave to unto her son out of love, the gods forced into another child, another boy, by way of twisted magic.  Not love, but fate and destiny.</p>
<p>That man, once the boy so loved by the witch, would eventually be betrayed.  The gods sought every mean available under the divine godliness to prevent his rise.  The boy that became a man would lose everything, even to never having the chance to tell his own child, a daughter conceived out of love, about the powerful witch that was her heritage.  He would die so close to succeeding, his only comfort that his progeny would live on… and maybe one day she could make a difference in the world.</p>
<p>A daughter.  His child that you had to know to understand that boy who lived because of his mother’s sacrifice.  She would be a powerful witch, much as her father, who was great like his mother.  It was up to this last witch to counter what the gods had decreed… and she did, though her trying was successful only in that she failed spectacularly.</p>
<p>Three generations of trying to defy the gods.  Such an undertaking.  How can anyone ever hope to pit his or her mere mortal existence upon those of divinity?  Angels and demons and things that no one can truly comprehend except within those moments of true madness, how does anyone hope to challenge those titans of old?  Sometimes the greatest gifts come from the most unlikely of origins.  The gods’ own champion bore a child… a son that she could manipulate, that offered her the means of saving the boy turned man that had lost, that had failed his mother’s promise.  She would use the blood of her father’s killer to undo everything that had come before.  Time itself would bend to her will, and the gods’ arrogance would be their very undoing.</p>
<p>Her plan was flawless in all ways that a child could hope to thwart the gods’ plan.  In other words, it failed so badly that things were even worse than before she had made the attempt, but chance is only another word for luck, and she was due.</p>
<p>The idea of making changes at the time the change is needed is utter foolishness.  You don’t say that the door needs closing right as someone opens the door.  No, you go back earlier and lock the door.  Put up signs that say do not enter.  You board the door over. Preventing it from ever opening.  That is how you succeed at your task.  The daughter of the man who was once the boy, the child of that powerful witch, learned this lesson at the end and made the choice to change things forever.</p>
<p>She went decades back…</p>
<p>And the world was changed forever.</p>
<p>Not just because of what she chose to do, the changes she sought to make so that her father could succeed, but because the gods’ own tools upon the Earth powered the very instrument used to create these changes.  How fitting that the gods’ own divinity would be their undoing?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>…ooo000OOO * OOO000ooo…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I closed the book.  Even after carefully editing and manipulating the various versions into a single, cohesive story… something still was not right, but I think that it is mostly because during the telling, I asked questions.  She never really answered while telling her tale, but it gave the story a more organic flow in the telling.  She gave more information than was her original intent, I believe.</p>
<p>I stretched out onto my bed and tried to remember that night.  There really is no explainable reason for why I am staying home tonight going over a story that my grandmother told me six Halloweens ago, but that is what I am doing.  Something about the story always struck me as important.  </p>
<p>“Did she do it?”  I asked my grandmother that night.</p>
<p>“Do what?”</p>
<p>I blew out my breath in exasperation.  “Defy the gods?  Win?  Save her father?”</p>
<p>Grandma Del sat back in the chair she was using, my mother’s chair when she watched over me.  It felt wrong that my grandmother was sitting in my mother’s chair.  “She did.  And she didn’t.”</p>
<p>“What does that mean?”  I groused.</p>
<p>“The story isn’t done yet, little one.”  She whispered as if sharing secret.  Her breath smelled like the bottle Aunt Hester never shared from.  “But I’m very hopeful.”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“Why?”  Grandma Del repeated.  “Because you are here in this bed, my precious.  How can the gods claim victory when you are here and not there?”</p>
<p>“I don’t understand.  What do I have to do with the story?”  I complained, kicking my foot in frustration.  </p>
<p>“Why, all the best stories have a damsel in distress.”</p>
<p>“I’m not a damsel.  I’m the evil witch.  I’m gonna turn into a dragon and eat the damsels.”</p>
<p>“You don’t want some hero to come and give you a kiss?  Saving you from the evil witch?</p>
<p>“I’ll kill the hero, too.”  I promised.  </p>
<p>She smiled at me.  Grandma Del never smiled.  Not even when drunk, but she was smiling then.  And at me.  “Are you?  Well, then I guess we don’t need to worry about how the rest of the story turns out, are we?  I’ll leave it in your capable hands.”</p>
<p>My grandmother had gotten up after saying that.  She refused any further requests for answers, saying that it was well past time I was asleep and turned all the lights out.  I was forced to spend the entire night plagued by questions that would never be answered.  All pleas and offers of bribes for more of the story were rebuffed, claims of it all being a dream her only answer.</p>
<p>But I knew it was more than that.</p>
<p>I knew it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Let's meet the Addams Family</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>CHAPTER ONE</p>
<p> </p>
<p>My life was starting over today.</p>
<p>I carefully considered my reflection in the full-length mirror.  Not bad.  For my last year as a teenager, I thought I looked good.  Pale green eyes that stood out from the surrounding heavy black liner on a cute face.  Lashes were long and thick.  A small mouth with lips stained black.  My figure was okay.  I would never be in my mother’s league, but the resemblance was there.  A few more years of maturity and another surgery or two should get me to where I wanted my overall look to be.  That, plus magic would help.</p>
<p>My reflection was currently sporting a frown.  Everything looked okay, but I was nervous.  I kept running my gaze over the stark black material of the dress, seeking out any possible imperfection that might possibly be used against promoting me in the very best of light.  To others, it might seem quite silly, but it was a serious matter to me.  I knew I wanted to provide the best first impression for my new employers.  I pulled at yet another thread that marred the uniformity of the outfit I had chosen.  I hated being anything less than the very best when first meeting someone of importance and, from all of the research over the past three weeks, the Professors at Hogwart’s School for Witchcraft and Wizardry were reputed to be the very best.</p>
<p>They had better be.</p>
<p>“I can’t believe that you’re actually going to leave me here all alone to go to another school.”  A voice spoke from the now open doorway into my room.  </p>
<p>At my brother’s interruption of my self-inspection, I turned and glared at the oversized young man.  Pugsley knew better than to barge into my room without asking.  I’d have to remind him that just because I was leaving to start living in another country and away from the Family’s estate that proper manners shouldn’t be forgotten; namely that my bedroom was off limits.  </p>
<p>There were still those new poisons and potions Grandmamma had taught me last month that I had not tried out yet.  Maybe Pugsley had just volunteered.</p>
<p>“Knock much?”  I returned my gaze to the mirror.  For a nineteen-year-old teenager, I was glad that I had decided to stop with those silly pigtails after graduating from Ilvermorny, but maybe should not have cut so much of its length.  It was above the shoulders now and kept getting in the way.  Maybe I should shave it all off.  Aunt Dementia would be flattered.  </p>
<p>“You trying to catch me naked again?  You haven’t done that since my surgery.”  I accused him from the mirror.  “And besides, Father wasn’t happy when he found those old photos from before I was thirteen hidden inside that Playwitch under your mattress.”</p>
<p>“The magazine was Dad’s!”</p>
<p>“And the Polaroids were of me.”</p>
<p>My older sibling offered an unrepentant grin.  It was a dangerous look for him.  Pugsley already gave off the appearance of a deranged serial killer with that far away dead gaze in his eyes.  Along with his large, lumbering size and maniacal grin, he was the stuff of nightmares.  Definitely not somebody you would want to meet in a dark alley all alone at night… or any other time, for that matter.</p>
<p>“Come on, Wednesday.  I stopped peeping on you after you decided to lose your dick.  Dad was only upset because you lied about me forcing you into those poses.  You know you liked it.  Anyway, I can always look at the pictures I took while you were asleep last week.  Mom told you to stop sleeping nude if you didn’t want to take the chance.”</p>
<p>“She did not.”</p>
<p>“Well, she should have.”  Pugsley ran his eyes up and down my body.  “I miss you being a little boy in girl’s clothes, anyway.  It was more fun getting your little weenie to tent your skirts and dresses.  Your ass still looks good, though.  Maybe I’d be interested in taking more pictures if you grew some tits worth looking at.”</p>
<p>“Ugh.  You’re such a pervert.”  I rolled my eyes.  That he chose now to again bring up me being a transgender female… I looked the best that I could, considering.  If only becoming a female had come automatically with curves like my mother.  Pugsley was right that I was not very blessed up top even after the surgery.  Mother said we would see about getting me into a larger bra size in a few years.  “You were just jealous that mine was bigger than yours and I still gave it up.”</p>
<p>Choosing to ignore any response he might have, I sat on my bed next to the suitcase that was finally packed (it only took me five days to decide what to take).  I reached down to slip on my shoe, careful not to cause the tights to bunch over the ankle.  “And I know you don’t have any photographs.  None recent, anyway.  Aunt Ophelia let me use some of her blood.  Nothing will show up without me allowing it… and I didn’t Will it.”  At the thought of the vampire blood I had ingested, I unconsciously ran my tongue over my eyeteeth again.  Still blunt and average.</p>
<p>I really wanted fangs.</p>
<p>“So that’s why they’re so blurry.”  Pugsley complained.  “No fair using vampire powers.”</p>
<p>“Yes.”  Ignoring the possibility that he was actually peeping on me again, I put on the other shoe, stood from the bed and gestured for him to proceed me out of the room.  “And Mother and Father aren’t ‘making me go to another’ school.  I want to go.  Hogwart’s is home to several masters of their field; including Professor Vector, Professor Slughorn and Headmistress McGonagall.  And that doesn’t even include Professor Dumbledore.  He’s a legend in several classes, including Alchemy.”</p>
<p>“You’re such a nerd.  And Alchemy’s still illegal, right?”  Pugs offered as we left my bedroom.  “I thought you wanted to stay close to home?  Help me learn the business from Dad?”</p>
<p>“I do.  Maybe.  Eventually.”  I quickly answered.  It had been really, really hard to ask the Family for the opportunity to accept the apprenticeship at Hogwart’s.  Tutored by Grandmamma and Mother, with the occasional help from other Family members, I had excelled at learning magic at home… but we eventually hit a plateau after I turned thirteen and undergone the Familial Ritual.  It had been a hard lesson to accept that sometimes people not Family might know more.  Since graduation last year, however, I was out performing everyone.  Professors included.  </p>
<p>I needed more.  It had been like providence that the opportunity for learning under so many masters of their craft came when it did.</p>
<p>“Then why?”</p>
<p>I inhaled deeply through my nose.  “You’re going to be one of the heads of the Addams Family one day, Pugs.  You and Pubert.  Now that you’re of age, Father’s started teaching you everything that you’re going to need to know, right?”  The blonde young man nodded, his face showing that he was actually listening to me for once.</p>
<p>“Okay.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know how you can’t already know about how the Addams siblings work, but they always stop at three.  You get that, right?”</p>
<p>“Yeah?”  Pugsley scratched at his chin.  “So?”</p>
<p>“So… look at Father, Uncle Fester and Aunt Hester.  The boys are comrades.  Compatriots.  The male children are in charge.  However, the female stands separate.  Different.  She acts as a guardian, of sorts.  Walks her own path.”</p>
<p>“We were brothers.  We could have been in charge.”</p>
<p>I felt my black lips start to turn upwards at his argument.  We ‘had’ been brothers, whether we stayed that way or not.  “We were.  But when Mother got pregnant, we all knew it was going to be a boy.  I totally knew it was going to be a boy.  Three Addams boys never work.  It would have been a bloodbath.”</p>
<p>He chuckled darkly.  “Like we don’t try to seriously maim each other.  Always have, Sis.”  He apparently liked being able to call me ‘Sis’ all of the time now.  I was not opposed to the nickname.</p>
<p>“You only think I’ve been trying.  Mother made me take it easy on you.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.  Right.”</p>
<p>I just looked at him before continuing the explanation.  “Three boys?  It would not have worked.  Trust me.  And I didn’t want it to.”</p>
<p>“And that’s why you decided to be a girl?”  His face got all scrunched up from trying to think too hard.  I truly hoped that Pubert got some brains.  Pugsley obviously did not.</p>
<p>“No.  At least, not just that.  I always felt better as a girl.  I knew deep down that I was supposed to be a female.”  We had reached the stairs.  I gestured for Pugsley to go first… better able to not be pushed down the stairwell that way.  “Mother told me that being a girl Addams would be difficult.  Maybe harder than anything else I would ever do, especially since I was born male.  To know what I was giving up.  But it’s what I wanted.  And, in the end, it will make the Family stronger.”</p>
<p>“Family first.”</p>
<p>I nodded.  “Absolutely.  Family always comes first.  But until Pubert reaches his majority, where would I fit in?”</p>
<p>“You’d be my sister.”  He answered immediately.  I took a moment to savor the strangely warm feeling that filled my chest.  It wasn’t a feeling that we often shared, especially considering the horrors we put one another through... but that he recognized me as his sister rather than as a brother helped make it all worth it.  </p>
<p>“I am.  And I always will be now, but I need a purpose.”  I smirked.  “More than just trying to toughen you up by trying to murder you.  Or for you to spy on so you can get your pervy freak on.”</p>
<p>It was good that he smiled.  The Fates only knew that we had literally tried to kill one another so many times during our preteen days.  I wondered if he knew that I had succeeded three times and that he only still drew breath upon this Earth due to their Grandmamma’s mastery over Necromancy... another now illegal Craft.  That… and Aunt Ophelia’s possession of a stolen Time Turner… something that I was not supposed to know about.</p>
<p>“And this British school can give you that purpose?”</p>
<p>“Not exactly, but close.”  My free hand pushed the black hair behind my ear.  It was definitely too short.  “I have a purpose.  Mother and Father even approve.  I just now need to find the best way to reach my goal.  This school can help with that.  It’s a means to my end.”</p>
<p>“What’s the end?  The goal?”</p>
<p>“Not telling.”  I offered with an attempt at a smile.  I knew that my smile was not very pleasant.  Being scary was fun.  ”Not yet, anyway.  But you’ll be one of the first to know.”</p>
<p>“I don’t understand.”</p>
<p>“I’m not explaining it very well.”  I stopped to consider what I could say.  What I could reveal.  “You know that the way you and I act towards one another is how Aunt Hester and Uncle Fester treated one another.  You knew that, right?”</p>
<p>“Of course.  Uncle Fester hates Aunt Hester.”</p>
<p>“He doesn’t, actually.  They love one another, but there were certain… expectations.”  I tried out that word.  Maybe it was not exactly right.  “As an Addams, certain things had to happen a particular way.  When it was just the two of us, we were good as brothers, but when Pubert got added to the mix, something had to change.  I had to change.”</p>
<p>My brother offered a weird laugh.  “Yeah.  Still don’t get it.”</p>
<p>“Ask Uncle Fester.  Better yet, ask Aunt Hester next time you see her.  She probably could answer your questions in a way that your dumbass might comprehend.”</p>
<p>“Bitch.”  He chuckled.   “Okay, Sis.  Be all mysterious.  I’ll get someone to interpret your stupid nonsense.  You go and enjoy learning stupid magic stuff.  Leave me to deal with Dad and Mom on my own.”</p>
<p>The two of us traversed the dimly lit hallways and finally turned into the living room.  I would really miss this place while across the ocean.  If time away at school had proven anything, it was that the rest of the world had no appreciation for the weird.  My dorm room at Ilvermorny actually had paintings of flowers on the wall.  Flowers!</p>
<p>I nodded when I saw our younger brother, Pubert, sitting at the dining room table.  It amazed me how much like Father he was in appearance, sans that mustache he had been born with.  Much as infants lost the hair they were born with, his mustache had fallen out just after his first birthday.  I enjoyed calling him ‘baby face’ after that.  Other than the lack of his facial hair, he had that Mediterranean slash Italian slash Greek complexion with dark eyes and even darker hair… not as black as mine, but that deep brown.</p>
<p>The eleven-year-old boy was currently tearing pages from a large book, tossing the ripped pages over his shoulder.  Typical.  At least he was reading the pages before discarding them this time. If we were lucky, it was one of Grandmamma’s cookbooks.  I doubted that it was the case as he studied one of the torn pages before folding it and putting in his shirt pocket.</p>
<p>“It won’t be that bad for you.  Father can never sit still for long.”  I continued, ignoring his grumbling about ‘that’ being the problem.  “And Mother’s going to go crazy since the ‘mistake’ here has decided to accept the Invitation to Hogwart’s.”  I pointed at the preteen.  </p>
<p>“Yeah.  I guess.”</p>
<p>“From what we have learned, the Ministry of Magic over there is all kinds of screwed up.  I even heard that Ambassador Munster asked for a new posting this year, otherwise she would resign.  You know that means the President is going to try to get Father to accept the job and get Mother and Father out of the country.”</p>
<p>“Dad as an Ambassador sounds like a really, really bad idea.”  </p>
<p>“I don’t want Mom and Dad to follow me to Hogwart’s.”  Pubert threw out, adding his unwanted opinion to the conversation.  Both Pugsley and I ignored him.</p>
<p>At seeing we were not going to respond, I heard my younger sibling call me “tramp” under his breath.  Anything promiscuous-sounding was his chosen insult towards me ever since the little scoundrel caught me sneaking into my room way past curfew.  It would not have been so bad, but my clothes had not been on correctly and covered in grass stains, dried mud and blood splattered.  </p>
<p>Not a giant leap to tell what I had been up to.</p>
<p>“Whatever.”  I offered.  He only smirked before going back to destroying the book in his hands.</p>
<p>Looking at my older brother, I rolled my eyes.  I really needed to get out of that habit.  “But then you could come, as well.  It might be good for ‘you’ to get out of the country for a while.”</p>
<p>Pugsley’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.  “Why do you say that?”</p>
<p>“Really?  I’ve read the papers.  I have seen the news.  Four teenage girls and three preteen boys known to have vanished over the past six months?”  I shook my head.  “You’re getting sloppy.  That’s too many for this area.  You should have stuck with the homeless and the runaways.  The occasional hooker.  Hardly anybody misses them.”</p>
<p>“But I have to clean them.”  The elder Addams sibling whined.  “And they barely have any substance to them.  No life.  All that work for such little reward.  I needed more.”</p>
<p>“Uncle Fester taught you better.  Do I need to tell?”</p>
<p>Pubert looked up from the mess he was making.  “I heard Uncle Fester and Dad already talking about it.”</p>
<p>“You were spying, you little creep.”  Pugsley said.</p>
<p>“You’re just upset that you’re gonna be in trouble.”  The younger boy shot back.</p>
<p>“As if!”  Pugsley intelligently answered.  “I’ve done lots worse.”</p>
<p>I sighed.  “Pugs, he’s right.”  It was difficult to ignore the victorious look the youngest in the room was suddenly sporting.  Nobody in the house liked agreeing with the littlest Addams.  “Seven is a lot.”</p>
<p>“You’re one to talk.  It took what?  Thirteen virgin females for your Familial Ritual?  I’m barely half that number.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but those thirteen were planned.  Carefully stalked and properly taken.  No one the wiser.  I do not think even one of them made the news.  You, on the other hand… there was a segment on America’s Most Disgusting Unsolved Crimes!”</p>
<p>“Fine.  I’ll slow down.  But there’s no way I’m following you and Pubbie there to England, Dad as an Ambassador or not.”</p>
<p>“Great Britain.”</p>
<p>“Who cares?”  He retorted.  “Not happening.”</p>
<p>I shrugged again.  “Fine, but I thought it sounded fun.”</p>
<p>“You just want Dad to accept so you can cause mayhem and destruction under Diplomatic Immunity while keeping me under their watchful eye.” </p>
<p>“Well, I am an Addams, after all.  And somebody needs to keep you in check.  Father might be a lawyer, but we both know he’d let you rot in prison to toughen you up.”</p>
<p>Pugsley appeared as if he was about to retort when…</p>
<p>“Children.”</p>
<p>All three of us stopped talking and were brought up short at our mother’s call.  We had learned early on that when Morticia Addams spoke, failing to provide her with your undivided attention led to painful lessons… and not the good type of pain, either.</p>
<p>“Mom?”  “Yes, Mother?”  We responded immediately over one another, standing up straight.  Pubert was silent, but he stood up from the chair he had been sitting in.</p>
<p>“There the three of you are.”  The stunning Addams matriarch glided into the room.  Where I knew that I could pull off attractive… blessed by Agrat bat Mahlat when I was thirteen, as well as having the best cosmetic surgery money could buy last year… I would never be in my mother’s league.  The light throughout the room seemed to artfully dim, offering only a single ray of illumination across Morticia Addams’ eyes… almost as if the world was but a film and our mother was the star.  Her long hair fell behind her like a cloak.  As always, the older witch was in a black dress that strategically complimented the woman’s beauty.  </p>
<p>I hoped to maybe one day achieve a fraction of Mother’s seductively succubus-like appearance.  For now, I would take being a pretty, goth female.</p>
<p>“We’ve received a message from the Office for International Portkeys.  The window for what they consider favorable weather conditions in crossing the Atlantic is now less than three hours away.  Wednesday, darling, we will need to be off soon.  Lurch is bringing the car around to the front.  Get your bags, please.  Don’t forget your wand, either.  The Isles get testy when magic is performed without a wand.”  </p>
<p>The tall woman glanced at her oldest son.  “Pugsley, dear, I’m going to trust you to not destroy the place while your sister and I are out.  You’ll watch your brother, yes?”</p>
<p>Pugsley sighed loudly.  “I was hoping to go out tonight.  Maybe see what nightlife I can find.  Find a little fun since Sis is leaving.”</p>
<p>Morticia seemed to think for a moment before finally nodding.  “That’s fine.”  She made a motion with her hand; the smell of ozone sharply hit my nose.  Magic, of course.  Our mother handed the newly Called currency to Pugs.  “Your father is all upset that his darling baby girl is leaving.  He’s worked himself up into a right state and gone through his entire box of cigars.  If you find something appropriate, please get it.  You know how your father gets when he’s forced to breathe clean air for too long.  He and Thing are in the study weeping while going through the Family albums.”</p>
<p>“I’m on it.”</p>
<p>With my older brother apparently settled, Mother moved her gaze towards Pubert.  “You, young man, will go directly to your Grandmamma’s suite.  She’ll have a few things for you to do.  No back talk.”</p>
<p>“Yes, Mom.”</p>
<p>It then became my turn again.  “And you, darling.  You look very nice.  Grab a cover from the closet.  English weather is raining right now.  Definitely not that leather thing you picked up in Chicago.  Maybe the Matilda Wormwood Cloak we got you last Yule.  The jade threading goes well with your eyes.”</p>
<p>“Yes, Mother.  Of course.”</p>
<p>“Your Familiar is in his case?”</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am.”  I answered respectfully.</p>
<p>“Have fun.”  “See ya later.”  Both brothers called over their shoulders choosing not to waste the opportunity to escape being in our mother’s presence a moment longer, not when she seemed on a mission to get things accomplished.  I wanted to send Pugs off with a rude gesture that I learned from Emily Haine just last month, but he was not looking this way any longer.  So much for a tearful goodbye.  </p>
<p>Asshats, the both of them!</p>
<p>After grabbing the cloak from the hallway closet that Mother suggested and hoping that while in the closet it had not gotten too dirty, thereby ruining all of the time I spent on the dress earlier, I pulled out my yew wand and summoned the suitcase from my bedroom.  Once it arrived, I picked up the luggage, as well as my Familiar’s carrier before walking over to Mother.  Homer was not happy to be contained.  “I’m ready.”</p>
<p>“So you are, darling.”  Morticia smiled fondly.  “We’ll be on our way now.  I think it best to leave your Father to his misery.  He so rarely has a good excuse to wallow.  Yes?”  I nodded.  “Besides, we’ll see you in a month when we drop Pubert off for his first day at Hogwart’s.”</p>
<p>The car ride to the International Portkey Office took a little while, even with Lurch’s driving.  The long sedan was an older model that usually turned a few heads.  I initially wondered why Mother and I had not simply Apparated there, but when she started talking, I understood.</p>
<p>“Wednesday, darling.”  She began.  “Your father and I are worried that you are tempting Fate by accepting this apprenticeship at Hogwart’s.”</p>
<p>“We’ve been over this, Mother.”  I repeated the argument that I had used the last time she brought this up.  “This offers the best way to succeeding.”</p>
<p>“I know.  I remember.  But you are still within the first year after the surgery.  The doctors wanted you to take it easy.”</p>
<p>“For a No-Maj?  Sure, but I am magical.  And I’m an Addams.”</p>
<p>Mother smiled softly.  “You are my daughter.  That is definitely true.  What about your transition?  The truth will come out eventually.”</p>
<p>“I am not ashamed of who I am… or how I got to where I am now.”  I protested.  “They will either accept me when the time comes or I will leave them all behind.”</p>
<p>We both sat in the silence of the automobile’s luxurious back seat, the hum of the gasoline-powered engine soothing in a weird sort of way.  I was willing to wait.  My transition was enough for a normal mother to worry, but not Morticia Addams, so I simply bided my time.</p>
<p>“You are going to be directly in the sights of Albus Dumbledore.”  Her voice held a hint of trepidation.  “The Potters.  I do not know if your father’s idea for us to be there will work.”</p>
<p>“It will be okay, Mother.”  I carefully placed my hand on top of hers.</p>
<p>The tall, gorgeous woman that was my mother finally nodded.  “Of course it will, my darling.”</p>
<p>I hoped I had not tempted Fate with our statements…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>…ooo000OOO * OOO000ooo…</p>
<p>I hated waiting.  The magical number that was listed over the front desk across the room that signified each person’s place in line currently showed nineteen forty-nine.</p>
<p>My number was twenty twenty-one.</p>
<p>Mother had finally left me here and headed home after we reached our destination.  I was surprised that she left me alone considering that my mother was still unsure about my leaving for Hogwart’s.  With all of my luggage properly shrunken and now carefully arranged inside my custom-made Wormwood cloak pocket, I only had to concern myself with carrying my Familiar’s carrier, so Lurch was not required to remain either.  It was lucky that Homer was a spider and did not weigh all that much – his unusually large size notwithstanding.  </p>
<p>The International Portkey Office for New York City was the epitome of dull and boring, as was the case for most governmental buildings that the Magical American Government seemed to choose.  The plastic chair I had been directed towards after signing in for my scheduled trip was hard and had a bad leg making all attempts at relaxing difficult.  </p>
<p>I considered trying to read the book I had brought along, but the television on the wall was playing some inane Japanese cartoon about a racecar driver and his brother’s pet monkey.</p>
<p>How was that entertainment?</p>
<p>“Addams.”  A man called my name.  He was dressed much as every government public service worker you had ever dealt with would be, from the wrinkled short-sleeved button down shirt (most likely originally white in color, though more of a yellow now) and plain tie down to the unflattering eyeglasses and comb-over haircut.  “Addams.”  I stood.  The office drone looked my way and I nodded. </p>
<p>“Addams?”  He asked.</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Wednesday Addams?”  He apparently wanted or needed further clarification.</p>
<p>“That’s me.”</p>
<p>He looked down at the parchment in his hand before he looked at me carefully.  He seemed satisfied, finally.  “Follow me, please.”</p>
<p>I glanced over my shoulder at the number on the wall.  Two thousand and three.  Not my turn, yet.  I shifted Homer’s carrier to my weaker hand and made sure that my wand was within reach.  Something was happening and I silently berated myself for sending Mother off too soon.</p>
<p>The man who had still not introduced himself led me into what I assumed were the back offices for the International Portkey Office.  There were closed doors initially, though we passed those fairly quickly and he now directed me around a room full of cubicles, each filled with even more people trapped in a world of unending bureaucracy.  </p>
<p>At the end of the trek we had followed was door that appeared like someone slightly important waited inside.  There was no name revealing who was behind the door, but the script written upon the opaque glass of said door read assistant director, so I assumed this was who had requested my presence.</p>
<p>I hoped they did not make me miss my Portkey.</p>
<p>My guide into the uninteresting inner-workings of this building knocked on the door.  Without waiting for a reply or answer to enter, he opened the door and gestured for me to proceed him.</p>
<p>Nodding politely, I carefully moved past the office worker, careful to not touch him.  Upon entering what I foolishly expected to be a tiny office, I was flabbergasted to find myself face to face with one of the most infamous and reviled wizards of the twentieth century.</p>
<p>“How are you…”</p>
<p>“Stupefy!”  The Dark Lord cast at me before I could prepare any type of defense.  I deserved whatever came next.  Falling to the floor, I wondered if my journey had ended before it ever could begin.</p>
<p>Upon hitting the floor, my mind tried to fight off the effects of the Stunning Charm, but it was hard.  I had not expected a battle before I reached the United Kingdom.</p>
<p>“Sire?”  The office drone’s voice sounded so far away.  “We don’t have much time.”</p>
<p>“I’m aware.”</p>
<p>“Will this work?”</p>
<p>“It had better.”  Their voices were slowly going away.  “I’ve waited too long for such an opportunity to let it pass by”</p>
<p>“Of course, sire.”</p>
<p>Then there was nothing but blackness.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>…ooo000OOO * OOO000ooo…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This way.”  A woman’s voice offered kindly.  My first reaction was to pull my arm from her grasp, to attempt to stand upright under my own power, but the roiling in my stomach and the urge to regurgitate everything I had eaten in the last forty-eight hours prevented my doing so.  As it was, even with her assistance, I barely made it to the bucket provided before vomiting.</p>
<p>“There there.”  The woman patted my back.  “First time using an international Portkey?”</p>
<p>“Last if it can be helped.”  I retorted back once I felt done.  I accepted the towel and cup of chilled water.  “Never again.”  I promised.</p>
<p>“They always say that.”  She smiled at me.  “But they always come back.  Quickest and daffiest way to jump the continents.”</p>
<p>I glared at the dark skinned witch.  She was so dark in appearance that I doubted one could find her in an unlit room.  Her hair, skin and eyes were all the same monotone in color.  I found her captivating, especially when she smiled.</p>
<p>“Thank you.”  I said after swallowing the cool liquid, handing her back the towel she had offered me.  </p>
<p>“Of course.”  She continued to smile.  “Wednesday Addams, I presume?”</p>
<p>“That would be correct.”  I handed over my Magical Passport and Letter of Approval for a Temporary Residence.  She looked them over and touched her wand to the bottom left corner.</p>
<p>“Wonderful.  You just made your deadline.  Was there a problem on the origin side?”</p>
<p>“Not that I am aware of.”  I scrunched my eyebrows down in thought.  “There should not have been any delay.  I had arrived on time at the International Portkey Office.  Early, in fact.  My number was called and I went in.  I relayed as such to the witch.”</p>
<p>“Hm.”  She looked at her clipboard after returning my documentation to me.  “I’ll send a request for a system check.  If the casting has a delay that we aren’t aware of, it could cause problems down the line.”</p>
<p>“Should I worry?”  I asked.</p>
<p>“Not at all.  No Splinching on this end.  No undue Hexes or Curses recorded.  Everything looks good.”  She nodded.  “You are good to go, Miss Addams.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.”</p>
<p>The black-skinned witch directed me towards a door behind me.  “Welcome to England, Miss Addams.  I hope you enjoy your stay.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Welcome to Hogwart's, Wednesday Addams</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>CHAPTER TWO</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After a most wonderful carriage ride (pulled by Thestrals, no less!!) to the castle’s door, I was met by a most foul and cantankerous man by the name of Argus Filch.  He was positively dreadful and made me almost immediately homesick, his demeanor so like how Lurch often treated the Addams children that I had to actually stop myself from treating him like Family.  Instead, I held myself up to the standards by which an Addams must and ordered the servant to escort me to the Headmistress’ office.</p>
<p>The dark and foreboding interior added further encouragement that I had made the appropriate choice.  This was not some summer palace with bright-eyed children running amok, but a dangerous monument that meant to instill the dangers and wonderful horrors of magic.  I almost forgot to pay attention as the castle’s caretaker took a turn that, if I had been less aware, I might have fallen down several stories where once a staircase had been.  My respectful nod to Mister Filch seemed to garner a bit of whimsy from him, as he began to hum a jaunty tune.</p>
<p>“We’re here.”</p>
<p>An intimidating gargoyle stood watch, though it had left the master’s doorway open.  I wondered how easily its most likely impressive defenses could be breached.  “Thank you.”  I offered the guide.  The old man left abruptly before I could say more, though what might be said further was beyond me.  Now alone, I took the stairway up.</p>
<p>The door at the top of the winding staircase was open.  Inside, I found a room that screamed of magic wherever I looked.  Father would love it here.  Gadgets and doodads lined several shelves, tiny little puffs of vapor blended with assorted colors spouted from what appeared to be an oil lamp, while a small cube flashed a purple light every few seconds.  Was that a Lament Configuration Puzzle Box?  My gaze moved to the walls where detailed oil paintings moved as if still alive, conversing with one another… though quite a few had stopped and were now staring at me.</p>
<p>“Miss Addams, I presume.”  The dignified older woman from behind the ornate, wooden desk spoke, drawing my attention to where it should have been.  I did not blush, but Mother would have been very disappointed.  Squaring my posture, I focused on the lessons that my Aunts Ophelia and Dementia had instilled in me that summer after my first year at Ilvermorny… how to blend in.  How to not terrify the mundane.</p>
<p>“My apologies, Headmistress.  I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting.”</p>
<p>The woman stood.  Though not that much taller than my less than five foot five inches, the Master of Transfiguration had a presence that seemed to dwarf the room.</p>
<p>“It’s understandable.”  She offered a nod.  “I am Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwart’s School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.  I appreciate your coming directly here from the Portkey Office.  Time, unfortunately, is a bit limited if we are going to get through everything tonight.”</p>
<p>“Of course, ma’am.”</p>
<p>“Would you care for some tea?”</p>
<p>“Yes.  Please.”  At the confirmation, the Headmistress gestured for me to sit.  Once I had, the older woman returned to her own chair.  </p>
<p>“Mitzy.”</p>
<p>A House Elf suddenly appeared.  “Yes, Head Miss Kitty?”</p>
<p>“Tea for two, please.  From my personal reserve.”</p>
<p>“At once, Head Miss Kitty.”  The small, twisted creature snapped its finger and a beautiful teapot with matching china was suddenly on the desk between us.  I watched as the House Elf magically floated the pot to pour each of us an appropriate amount of the beverage before setting it back down and then fading from view.</p>
<p>House Elves were something native to the British Isles, almost never seen anywhere else.  I briefly wondered if Cousin Itt had House Elf blood somewhere back in his ancestry.  Elves’ connection to magic seemed very similar to his… almost the same.  I made quick mental note to try again to capture and then shave the secretive Family member.  It was one of my Bucket List projects to see what he looked like under all of that hair.  Maybe he actually ‘was’ a House Elf.</p>
<p>“Before we begin,” Headmistress McGonagall sat back in the chair behind the large desk that separated the two of us and took a small sip of tea that had just been poured.  “I’d like to inquire about the jewelry you are wearing.  What purposes do the enchantments provide exactly?”</p>
<p>Nodding and taking a moment to smooth the black fabric of the dress over my thighs, I was impressed that the elder woman had identified that I wore so many Enchanted items on my person.  It was a testament that Hogwart’s School was where I wanted to be.  Needed to be.  “Regarding the three earring on my left ear: one acts as a rudimentary translating spell for spoken language, the second offers a one-off for eavesdropping on others, while the third protects against overly loud noises.”</p>
<p>“I see.  And the right?”</p>
<p>“The two on the right ear are both rechargeable minor Jinx counters.  Each works one time before the Charm would need to be applied again.  There was a third that acted as an emergency Portkey home, but since that is out of range currently, I packed it instead.”</p>
<p>Headmistress McGonagall’s eyebrows rose into her hairline.  “Minor Jinx counterwork?”</p>
<p>“My brothers liked to… tease me.  My N.E.W.T. for both Arithmancy and Charms was the development of the counterwork.”</p>
<p>“I quite understand.  Very impressive.  I’d love to know the particulars of recharging jewelry that small that can contend with even the most basic and simplistic of spells.  Enchantments don’t usually work well with such delicate metal as bases.”</p>
<p>“Of course.”  I nodded.  “To continue, the necklace holds a slight Glamour.  It’s only because I underwent No-Maj surgery last year, fairly invasive, and some of the scars have yet to fully heal.”</p>
<p>“A muggle procedure?  Magic couldn’t help?”</p>
<p>How to answer?  I really did not want to go into any detail about my transitioning from a male into a female just yet.  “It might have, though I don’t know of it ever having been performed previously.  Modern medicine and science, both, have progressed enough that my parents thought it worth the risk.”</p>
<p>“How fascinating.  And the aftercare?  Spells and potions?”</p>
<p>“I am taking my prescribed potions, quite diligently, but some things time and patience require proceeding as it wills.  There are even a few No-Maj pills that I’m required to take for a few more months.”</p>
<p>“I must admit that I am intrigued, but I will, of course, respect your privacy.  Unless… will this affect your apprenticeship?”</p>
<p>“No, ma’am.”</p>
<p>“Fine.  And the rings?  Bracelets?”  She pressed.</p>
<p>“One ring protects against most poisons.  The second against love potions.  There was an incident during my third year attending Ilvermorny.  A… suitor, of sorts, refused to take no for an answer.”  I explained before moving on without giving the Headmistress a chance to inquire further.  “On my other hand are counters for skin irritants and the last is a mild pain relief for cramping joints.  My dissertation on Ancient Mayan Mating Rituals had to be handwritten, in triplicate.  After I was done, I could barely hold a quill; much less write anything with one.  The bracelet is simply a Warming Charm.  I was warned that the castle could get quite cold in the wintertime.”</p>
<p>The Headmistress offered a slight upturn of her lips before she hid the smile behind taking another sip of her tea.  I picked up my own cup and took a sip enjoying the bitter taste.  “Is my wearing them an issue?  My taking potions?”</p>
<p>“Not at all.  Many of the Professors here utilize some of the same techniques.  Both Professor Dumbledore and Professor Slughorn wear glasses that reveal that which is hidden.  In fact, they might even penetrate your Glamour.  I, myself, have a few trinkets here and there.  Also, Remus Lupin is on a regimen of potions, so there won’t be any worries the staff being too terribly nosey beyond the type of gossiping one expects among colleagues.”</p>
<p>“Thank you for letting me know that.”  I tilted my head at the name offered.  “I don’t recall a Mister Lupin… and with a name like that?  Obviously false.”  I thought for a moment.  “An ICW Designated werewolf name?”</p>
<p>“I’m impressed that you figured that out so quickly.  Almost no one here knows about the forced Name Designation per the Walcamp Doctrine of nineteen-fourteen.”</p>
<p>“My family is all about the weird and the kooky.  My Grandmamma dated Larry Talbot, supposedly, before he was murdered.  I am guessing Mister Lupin was cast out and disinherited.  Did he choose to go by Remus Lupin or was the ICW Representative the one to saddle the man with it?”</p>
<p>In one of the more ridiculous laws on the twentieth century, the International Confederation of Wizards allowed the families of the victims of werewolf attacks to disinherit and cast out those infected with lycanthropy.  It was an amendment attached to the same requirement for newly turned vampires.  Once done, those wizards and witches had no choice but to come up with entirely new names, as their old ones were stricken completely out of existence.  I wondered who his birth family had been.</p>
<p>“Yes.  ‘Professor’ (the Headmistress stressed the title) Lupin was, in fact, cast out of his family after he was infected.  Currently, he is our new Professor for Understanding Muggles.  It is a First Year requirement for all magical born or magic-raised.  It acts as an elective after Third Year for the rest of the student body if they so wish, though it counts as only a half credit after First Year.  It is a sister course for Intro into Magical Society that is taught by Professor Andromeda Tonks.”</p>
<p>“Interesting.  I wish they’d had something similar as those types of classes at Ilvermorny.”</p>
<p>The stern looking older woman set her teacup back on its saucer.  “The Addams name is a very well regarded pureblood family in the former Colonies.  Your family is established well within both Muggle and Magical societies.  The name is highly thought of, even here, still.  Why would such classes have been beneficial?”</p>
<p>I set my cup down, as well.  “While, yes, my family is pureblooded, we are also very insular in our interactions with the rest of society, No-Maj or Magical.  Frankly, we prefer to remain together in our seclusion, away from the public.”  I shrugged my shoulders.  “In fact, my acceptance of this opportunity created quite the continuing scandal with the rest of my family, but I’ve been somewhat of a black sheep for a while.”</p>
<p>“Really?  Now I am definitely interested to know more.”</p>
<p>I continued to nod my head.  “First, well… my magical upbringing was different, but never mind about that.  Suffice it to say, I chose to seek education away from home.  Addams children are always home schooled; only coming out in order to be tested.  I chose to seek tutelage elsewhere after I turned thirteen.  I went on to graduate from Ilvermorny…”</p>
<p>“Top of your class.”  Minerva McGonagall interrupted.  “Truly impressive grades.”</p>
<p>“Right.  I did.  Then, I immediately began working on my application to become a Sorceress, which, of course, led to your offering me this apprenticeship.”</p>
<p>“Quite the trendsetter.”</p>
<p>“More than you know.  My younger brother just turned eleven.  He accepted his Hogwart’s Letter of Invitation.  Both my mother and father blamed me.  The rest of the Family was… is… quite scandalized over the whole affair.  I am apparently a bad influence.”</p>
<p>“Oh, my.”</p>
<p>“Exactly.  Mother is supportive.  Not thrilled, of course, but she wants her children to be happy.  My father is another matter entirely.  One moment he is proud and happy, the next… well, he did not offer me the warmest of sendoffs.  I believe he locked himself inside of his study and was nearly inconsolable regarding at my leaving.”</p>
<p>The Headmistress’ face showed confusion.  I waited patiently as the administrator thought how best to ask the obvious question.</p>
<p>“How did your family receive an Invitation?  Hogwart’s is limited in its reach due to various agreements with the other major magical academies.  Every place of learning around the world.  Surely, Ilvermorny would have precedence.”</p>
<p>“True, but the Addams Family has treaties that precede the creation of the schools, much less the boundaries and borders of the magical institutions.  Ilvermorny jumped at the opportunity to allow me to attend a few years late.  I received a Letter of Invitation from every magical academy across the world when I turned eleven.  I’m sure my younger brother did, as well.”</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>“In fact, I’m considered a magical resident of whatever country I’m currently standing in the moment my feet touch ground.  That alone means that I would have been offered a place at the school of my choosing.”  I considered offering a smile, but thought better of it.  “I became a British citizen the moment my International Portkey landed.  I technically became Scottish upon arriving at the castle.”</p>
<p>“How…?”</p>
<p>“The truth?  No idea.  My Grandmamma told me a story once when I was little.  As the tale goes, several wizards were drafted to defeat some horrible monster that terrorized the land.  Virgin sacrifices did not appease it. Offerings of gold and all manner of treasures were ignored.  It was feared that nothing would stop it, until finally a lone wizard-scholar came up with a wild idea.  Some type of unholy pact was bartered and ultimately accepted.  A Deal with the Devil, I guess you could call it.  After that, as long as the agreement was kept, the monster would terrorize the land no more, free to come and go as it pleased.  The wizard-scholar chose to follow along and record the monster’s story.”</p>
<p>Headmistress McGonagall smiled.  “A charming bedtime story.  Was your ancestor supposed to be that triumphant wizard-scholar that saved the day or the unbeatable monster?”</p>
<p>“Oh, no, ma’am.  My ancestor was the Devil that brokered the deal.  Mother claims that the story was the reason Father decided to become a lawyer.”</p>
<p>After that, the two of us finished the strong tea and discussed the basics of life for my time in the castle.  Soon, however, it was time for us to make their way out of the Headmistress’ office and down the staircase.  As Headmistress McGonagall and I made our way deeper into the castle, she began talking.</p>
<p>“Since you are seeking to become a Sorceress, I assume you have already decided upon the three masteries you wish to focus on while apprenticing here at Hogwart’s?”</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am.  I was hoping to become a master for Arithmancy, Charms and Transfiguration.”</p>
<p>“Really?”  The Headmistress’ voice held a note of surprise.  I hoped she also gave me a hint of respect, as well.  “The Thaumaturgical Path?  Why that way?”</p>
<p>“Besides the fact that the Philosopher’s Path is against the Law?”  At the Headmistress’ slow nod, I continued.  “Arithmancy is a given.  I have already created over seventeen spells.  Ten of which are currently under consideration with the International Confederation of Wizards to add to the Committee of Education’s Standard Spell listings.  If I can get Professor Vector to sign off on the remaining seven and then help me with creating another four, I can apply to become a Master of Arithmancy.  I hope to be finished before Christmas.”</p>
<p>“Well done.  Seventeen spells before twenty years of age.  I have not heard of anyone that ambitious since, well, it was over twenty years ago from a prior student here.  I think that before she left Hogwart’s, she was at fifteen newly created spells, herself.  Very promising young witch.”</p>
<p>Here we go.  “Really?  Who?  I’d love to meet her.”</p>
<p>The Headmistress sighed before turning her face slightly away.  “Lily Evans.  Formerly the Lady Potter.  She is another recent addition to the staff.  I’ll make a point of introducing you later.  Please refer to her as Professor Evans.  She is also the current Head of Gryffindor House.”</p>
<p>“The former Lady Potter?  You’re talking about the mother of Harry Potter then?”</p>
<p>McGonagall looked at me, her eyes searching.  “Refer to her as Professor Evans, please.  Moreover, yes, she lost her first son, Harry James, at the end of Riddle’s war against the Ministry and the Magical World.  Her marriage later became yet another casualty of that man’s evil, but not before she bore Lord Potter two more children.  A girl and then a boy.  Both are current students here.”</p>
<p>“Riddle?  You mean Tom Riddle?”  Choosing to ignore the new knowledge of two more Potter children, I focused on the other bit of information provided.  I falsely widened my eyes in mock surprise.  “Didn’t he surrender to your Ministry a few years ago?”  </p>
<p>“He did.”  The Headmistress answered, her voice soft.  “But that is neither here nor there for our purpose.  Politics is heavily gossiped at Hogwart’s.  You were telling me your reasoning for Transfiguration and Charms.”</p>
<p>Accepting the forceful change in subject, I considered the best way to present my choices.  The older woman could very easily void all decisions and insist on an alternative Path for attempting to achieve the status of becoming a Sorceress.  I knew I had to lie.  I only hoped that my argument was properly persuasive.</p>
<p>“Charms would be because it offers the widest range of actual usage of magic.  Charms is not limited to wand usage, but encompasses various Rituals and Rotes, Rites and Jinxes.  Even Hexes and Curses.  With a mastery in Charms, I can use that in conjunction with Arithmancy and build a better mousetrap.”</p>
<p>“Excuse me?”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.  Something my Aunt Ophelia likes to say.  It is a No-Maj saying.  My Aunt says it means to find a better way of improving on something that already works.  I want to not only create, but to improve.”</p>
<p>“An admirable goal.  And Transfiguration?”</p>
<p>“Transfiguration is a personal project of mine.  I like the idea of not only being able to manipulate one thing into another, but I want to look into the possibility of permanently altering such changes.  Imagine if we could manipulate garbage into something useful, that stayed that way.  Improving on the ‘what is’ into the ‘what it could be.’  Should be.”</p>
<p>Headmistress McGonagall seemed almost troubled once I had finished speaking.  “I can understand the desire, but what you’re talking about could be quite dangerous.  A never-ending Transfiguration could lead to changes that might not should happen.  If you stay within the realm of non-sentience, you would be fine, except that I have read your papers.  You expect to take it into the final metamorphous of the living.”</p>
<p>“If you’ve read my O.W.L. papers about the manipulation of sentient, living subjects being the possible origin of non-human magical creatures – Goblins, Centaurs, Veela; maybe even Unicorns and Dragons.  You understand that what I’m hoping to achieve is nothing new.”</p>
<p>The Headmistress took a deep breath.  “I have read everything that was submitted.  I even sought out your earlier papers that were not submitted.  In fact, I even shared your words with many of the staff here.  Everyone agrees it is well thought out, but the implications of your intentions are terrifying.  Groundbreaking, maybe, but almost heretical.  It was almost enough to deny our offer.”</p>
<p>“I understand.”</p>
<p>“Do you?”  The older woman lightly laid her hand on my shoulder.  “Magical changes of a permanent basis, by your reasoning, could lead to a dangerous path if not carefully monitored.  There’s a reason that the study of Alchemy was outlawed when Louis Cattiaux was found guilty of heresy after his Cult of Odin followers attempted to overthrow the French Ministry of Magic.”</p>
<p>“The Odin Force?”  I wanted to scream.  “That was ridiculous.”</p>
<p>The Headmistress nodded.  “True.  However, Cattiaux’s end goal was very similar in scope to what you have written.  He hoped to force changes on many sentient beings that were and still are, in many cases, classified as magical creatures.  To his way of thinking, he was helping.  You have to see that even the attempt of creating permanent changes on such a scale has led many great wizards and witches down the wrong path.  Even the Flamel’s were forced from their positions of prominence after what Cattiaux did.  In addition, as you said, the Philosopher’s Path is denied to you.  You seek to circumvent the Law by attempting Thaumaturgy instead.”</p>
<p>“That’s not what I’m doing.”</p>
<p>“Miss Addams… you are going against the Laws of Magic.  Some might even argue against the Laws of Man and of Nature.”</p>
<p>I laughed harshly.  “Isn’t all magic like that?”</p>
<p>The older witch shook her head.  “An argument for later, perhaps.  Professor Dumbledore will be the man you will have to convince.  Not me.  He is an amazing teacher.  Albus helped me with my own Mastery of Transfiguration, but he also required many exacting Oaths before finally providing those final lessons.  In fact, I am quite sure Professor Flitwick might be very similar.  You’ve chosen a difficult road, Miss Addams, but I am quite content at present to see you try.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Headmistress.”  I would have to construct some impressive mental barriers and believable lies to convince the great Albus Dumbledore to sign off on my mastery.  I felt that McGonagall would have been the easier to convince.  </p>
<p>The half-Goblin would not be a problem, I hoped.</p>
<p>“Now, in regards to your duties as an apprentice at Hogwart’s, the students of the school will consider you the same as a Junior Professor.  So that you are aware, there are four ‘actual’ Junior Professors newly hired and on staff.  I am sure you will be introduced to them before the school year officially begins.  In regards to the three subjects you have chosen, each of those professors will have first pick of your time, whether it be grading papers or teaching classes or whatever.  You may be sent to fetch items or simply be assigned various tasks that they wish to see you fulfill.”</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p>
<p>“If they don’t have anything for you to do, you might be assigned to aid another professor.  I will try to limit those instances to classes that also fall under the possibility of achieving the rank of Sorceress.  Runes, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and even Potions.”  She paused speaking.  “I doubt there will be a need for you in History, Muggle Studies, Magical Society, Care of Magical Creatures or the other new classes, but the possibility exists.”</p>
<p>“I understand.”  I quickly agreed.</p>
<p>“You should know that there is a motion currently under consideration for Herbology to be added as a mastery that would allow one to achieve the rank of Sorceress.”</p>
<p>I nodded respectfully before answering.  “I was aware of that, actually, but it also is a part of the push for a requirement of four masteries, not three.  Part of why I am here now is to see if I can get the three I need before the possible increase.  The requirement of four would only be for new applicants.  Those named as Sorceress before the change would keep their title.  Those with three could go for a fourth at their leisure.  Or even an eventual fifth mastery to be named a Grand Sorceress.”</p>
<p>It was most likely that the Headmistress of Hogwart’s was unaware that the push for the increase in masteries required had been put forth by several factions that wanted to prevent an Addams… me specifically, from achieving the rank of Sorceress.  After all, once so named, the laws the restricted what was and was not allowed regarding large-scale magic was lessened.  In fact, there had been no fewer than eight attempts on my life prior to graduating Ilvermorny, the botched love potion debacle aside.  Me becoming a N.E.W.T. level witch had raised the hackles of several prominent wizards and witches within the Magical Congress.</p>
<p>“Very good.”  We approached a very large doorway, both of the thick, heavy wooden doors thrown wide open.  It was apparently our destination.  “Not all of our staff are in the castle at the moment, but as it is dinnertime, I thought you might like to meet a few of the people you will be apprenticing under.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, ma’am.  Thank you.”</p>
<p>Upon entering the dining hall, I was stunned at the magnitude of the room.  Four gigantic tables ran the length of the massive chamber, with a fifth table (much smaller) running counter to the other four.  From where I stood, I could see that there appeared to be five people sitting at what had to be the faculty table.  I quickly followed the Headmistress as she made her way between the two central tables.</p>
<p>Upon drawing much nearer, I quietly watched as the Headmistress stopped short of the table and addressed the assembled wizards and one other witch.</p>
<p>“Professors.”  She spoke gently, but everyone stopped what he or she were doing to listen.  “I’d like to introduce you to our new apprentice, Miss Wednesday Addams, formerly of Ilvermorny.  She has graciously accepted our offer to help her achieve the rank of Sorceress.”</p>
<p>“Oh, well done, Miss Addams.  Very well done.”  A portly but very distinguishably dressed wizard spoke up.  “I hope you’re considering Potions for a mastery.”</p>
<p>“This is Professor Horace Slughorn.  He is one of the three resident Potion Masters within Hogwart’s.  He also is the Head of House for the Slytherin students.”</p>
<p>“A pleasure, Professor.”  One proper curtsey down.  Mother’s insistence of practice was right again, of course.  “And while Potions was not one of my immediate choices, I do look forward to learning as much as possible during my time here.”  The Potions Professor offered his good luck wishes before sitting down and returning to his meal.</p>
<p>“And next to him is Professor Bathsheba Babbling.  She teaches the Study of Ancient Runes.”  The fairly attractive woman only nodded before returning to her meal.  I felt like maybe I would want to discuss manners with her later.  The Headmistress seemed slightly put out at the Runes Professor’s lack of hospitality, as well.  </p>
<p>“Next is Professor Severus Snape.  While he is currently one of two Masters of Defense Against the Dark Arts, he is the current instructor.  Professor Snape is also the second Potions Master that Hogwart’s can boast.”  I met the dark eyed gaze of the man named Snape and knew that there was a kindred spirit hidden within those tortured orbs.  The desire to reach out and scratch at his face, ripping at that pale skin, freeing the tang of his blood onto my tongue was almost too much.  I was barely able to control the cold shiver that ran down my spine. </p>
<p>“The Dark Arts?”</p>
<p>“No, sir.”</p>
<p>The sallow skinned man nodded.  “Wise of you” and then returned to his meal, ignoring me and the Headmistress completely.</p>
<p>“Next is my current Deputy Headmaster and Charms Professor, Filius Flitwick.”  The half-goblin looked to where we stood and smiled jovially.  “My word, but you’re a young one.  Attempting the Sorceress challenge, are we?”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir, Professor Flitwick.”  I curtseyed again.  “I am very hopeful that you will help me achieve my dream.  My family’s dream.”</p>
<p>His thick eyebrows rose high.  “You’re choosing Charms?  Really?”  The diminutive professor turned to look at the yet to be introduced wizard, though no one alive today would be hard pressed to immediately recognize him.  He was the Defeater of Grindelwald, the once Supreme Mugwump, former Chief Warlock of the British Wizengamot and the previous Headmaster to Hogwart’s School for Witchcraft and Wizardry... not to mention one of the only three Grand Sorcerer’s in the world currently.  The wizard in front of her had masteries in Charms, Runes, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts and the now illegal Alchemy.  “I can’t remember the last time an applicant to become a Sorcerer or Sorceress chose Charms.”</p>
<p>The ancient looking wizard, his wrinkled hand brushed the length of his white beard, sat back and stared upwards.  His blue eyes twinkling madly.  “Why, Filius, I know that there’ve been a few graduates that stated their intention to apply, though none recently have attempted it.  As for the choice of Charms, I think Walden McNair last tried.  Failed quite spectacularly, as I recall.”</p>
<p>“Professor Evans was under consideration a few years ago.  She was quite good at Charms, as I remember.”</p>
<p>“True, but after her… well… Lily dropped the idea.  Besides, Charms was not one of the masteries that she was considering.  Runes, I think.  Runes, Potions and Arithmancy were her choices.  The Magician’s Path.”</p>
<p>“Albus.”  The Headmistress’ voice was sharp.  “Let’s not terrify the poor girl.  I have read over her transcripts and looked over her grades.  Maybe the best I have seen in nearly twenty years.  Maybe thirty.”</p>
<p>“Minerva.”  Albus Dumbledore held up his hands in apology.  “Peace.  I was only lost in a memory.  If Miss Addams is going to try to become a Sorceress, well, she’ll need to be made of sterner stuff if the words of an old wizard like me can scare her.”</p>
<p>Headmistress McGonagall rolled her eyes at the old man’s antics.  “And last, Miss Addams, may I present to you our Professor of Transfiguration, Albus Dumbledore.”</p>
<p>At his introduction, the reputed greatest wizard alive today stood and offered a bow.  “My apologies if I frightened you, Miss Addams.  Please forgive this old man his eccentrics.  Addams.  Addams.”  He tapped his finger on his lips.  “I had the misfortune of running afoul of a wizard named something or another Addams some sixty years or so ago.  Most disagreeable of a wizard.  Quite rude, if I remember correctly.  Attempted to steal my wand, I think.  That or my purse.”  He returned his gaze to stare directly at me.  “You’re not here to steal my wand, are you, Miss Addams.”</p>
<p>“Albus!”  Headmistress McGonagall nearly shouted.</p>
<p>I considered the various ways to respond.  Maybe a partial truth swallowed by an irreverent falsehood might be best.  “I’m not here to steal anything; your wand, especially.  As for the Addams you might have faced… that would possibly have been my Grandfather, Repelli Addams.  My father’s father.  He was known to be quite the scoundrel and self-proclaimed pirate.  Grandmother Del says that he was always after anything related to Death and powerful magic.”</p>
<p>I almost missed the miniscule twitch of Professor Dumbledore’s left eye at my reference to Death.  As it was, maybe there was more here at the school than the education I was seeking… and the Family’s ultimate goal.</p>
<p>The Transfigurations Professor respectfully nodded.  “Then my apologies that our encounter may have been the one that ended unfavorably for your family.  If you would pass along my condolences to your grandmother, I would be more than happy to offer what memories I might have of our time together.”</p>
<p>“I will pass along the message.”</p>
<p>Once the wizard returned to his chair, he speared a piece of his dinner with his fork.  “Are you considering Transfiguration, as well?”</p>
<p>Offering a slight bow, I answered truthfully.  “I am, Professor.”</p>
<p>Albus Dumbledore smiled brightly, though it came across as fake.  It was a smile not so unlike the grin my brother offered after he caught me unaware and strapped me to Uncle Fester’s rack, all the while promising to make me taller.  “Splendid.  I look forward to our time together.”</p>
<p>“As do I, Sir.  As do I.”</p>
<p>“Well, why don’t we have a seat and enjoy a bit of dinner before we continue with our discussion of your duties.”  The Headmistress offered.  I indicated agreement and we moved to the table.  While Minerva McGonagall took her rightful place at the table’s center, I was forced to choose one of the end seats: either sitting next to Professor Slughorn or Professor Dumbledore.</p>
<p>I was not brave enough yet to chance the Grand Sorcerer.  Horace Slughorn it was.  The portly gentleman graciously stood when I sat next to him, his entire demeanor one of welcome.</p>
<p>“So, Miss Addams.  Of Ilvermorny, was it?  I’ve heard that they have four houses, much as Hogwart’s separates its students.  Yes?”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir.  I, myself, was graced to be sorted in to Thunderbird’s House.”  I answered.  A plate of food appeared in front of me.  It took a lot of willpower not to sigh at the meal.  Some type of animal… definitely dead and cooked to the point of tastelessness.  An assortment of vegetables.  Boring.  Plain.  Pedestrian.  I would have to send a post home to beg for a care package or more.  I took a bite before responding further to the professor.  </p>
<p>As we continued the discussion, I idly noted that while the majority of other dining teachers would occasionally interject or take a moment to add to the conversation with the Potions instructor, Professor Dumbledore instead kept himself apart.  Watching and evaluating.</p>
<p>It was going to be a long evening…</p>
<p>And an even longer apprenticeship.</p>
<p>After dinner and a brief discussion or two with the professors I was able to speak with, the Headmistress guided me towards where I would be living for the next two years, if everything worked out as was my intention.  I had twenty-three months to complete the Sorceress Challenge.</p>
<p>“Here we are.”  The older witch brought me out form my internal musings.  I followed as she placed her hand on a metal plate next to the wooden door.  “I’ve manipulated this suite’s personal Warding to match yours.”</p>
<p>At her gesture, I followed her example and placed my hand upon the lock.  It was surprisingly warm.  I felt the Ward click and match my magical aura for recognition purposes.  When she saw that I was done, she offered a small nod.</p>
<p>“Only I and the Deputy Headmaster have free access to your rooms without an invitation.  You can leave the Wards open if you expect guests, but your quarters are considered private and only the three of us can unlock the door.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Headmistress.”</p>
<p>I opened the door and stepped into an empty front room.  No furniture.  Further inspection revealed a private bathroom with a claw foot tub that was just before the doorway that led to a fairly nice sized bedroom.  I did note that there was not a closet anywhere.</p>
<p>“Thank you.”</p>
<p>“I will leave you to make your quarters your own.”  She glanced around the bare space.  “The House Elves will answer your call now, since you have been accepted as an instructor for the school.”</p>
<p>“House Elves?”  I inquired.</p>
<p>The Headmistress gestured towards one of the bare walls.  “They can provide you with furniture that hopefully can meet your expectations.  Nothing grandiose, I’m sure, but adequate to meet your needs.”</p>
<p>“I understand.”</p>
<p>“You are, of course, permitted to either purchase anything that the castle cannot provide, or have things delivered from home, if you prefer.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.”  I was saying that a lot.  “I am sure that what Hogwart’s has will suffice.”</p>
<p>“Good.”  She made towards the door.  “I can offer you a day or two to settle in.  The Junior Professors are due to arrive tomorrow or the day after, and thy will no doubt want to take time to get comfortable.”</p>
<p>“I am sure that I will need tomorrow only.  Earlier, if you require anything from me.”  I offered.</p>
<p>“No.  Settle in.  Maybe try to take some time to familiarize yourself with the castle’s layout.  Visit the library.  I am sure that once everyone starts arriving, time will become a luxury.”</p>
<p>And with that last piece of advice, she left.</p>
<p>Looking around, I already had a few ideas of what I would need to make myself comfortable in my new home for the near future.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Let's learn a little bit about the Magical World in Great Britain.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>CHAPTER THREE</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where’s Homer?”</p>
<p>I waived a hand haphazardly about the room.  Truthfully, I was not exactly sure where my Familiar was.  “He’s somewhere around.  Most likely adding some more webbing in a dark corner.  He won’t stop until he’s happy with this place.”</p>
<p>Penelope cast her eyes around frantically.  “You’re sure he won’t hurt me?”</p>
<p>As I opened the wardrobe to consider my clothing options, I took a moment to appreciate how the blonde witch in my quarters was the only person so far brave enough to enter.  She was my complete opposite in almost every way regarding our outward appearances – she had tanned skin with light hair and bright eyes.  Blue, of course.  She was nearly three inches taller and was constantly smiling.  </p>
<p>How did I attract this stereotype?  I was doomed to have blonde-haired women as acquaintances.</p>
<p>“He shouldn’t.”  I answered as I pulled the skirt on.  “He hasn’t attacked anybody yet.  I do not see why he would start with you.  I ‘actually’ like you, unlike Hannah.  No one should smile that much.  I almost expect Abbott to try selling me cookies every time I see her.”</p>
<p>“I appreciate that you say I’m safe in here.  I do.   Nevertheless, your Familiar is a spider as big as my fist.  Forgive me for worrying just a little bit.”  The newly hired Junior Professor for the Study of Ancient Runes and occasionally Charms sat gingerly in the only chair not currently covered in various books and scrolls.  After sitting, the blonde-haired witch looked around my dark, foreboding quarters.  “The House Elves didn’t clean before you moved in?”</p>
<p>I turned to the side to examine my reflection.  We were required as Junior Professors to wear the teaching robes, but I preferred those that the instructors wore at Ilvermorny.  I would have to see if the Headmistress would allow me the option.  As I looked now, the stark white shirt with the simple gray skirt seemed almost boring next to Penelope’s pink and green ensemble.  I finally popped my head around the wardrobe’s door, quirking an eyebrow at my uninvited visitor.  “What do you mean?  It’s taken almost my entire week here to get my rooms to look this good.”</p>
<p>“Good?”  Penelope exclaimed.  “I bet even Professor Snape would say that this place was too gloomy.”  A cauldron over by the doorway leading into the private loo decided at that moment to bubble and pop, the foul looking liquid releasing an odor reminiscent of rotten pineapples.  </p>
<p>Ah, the scent reminded me of Valentine’s Day at Ilvermorny.  The hazing for their supposed super-secret society.  Their cries for mercy.  Their pleading for even the tiniest of relief.  Promises to not reveal what I had done to them… what I was going to do to them.  Not to mention the No-Maj virgin I had to sacrifice for the customary anointing of the altar.</p>
<p>I really missed Amanda.  Poor little Amanda Buckman.  </p>
<p>Her blood had tasted delicious.</p>
<p>Good times.</p>
<p>I wondered how Hannah Abbott’s blood would taste.</p>
<p>“You think it’s gloomy in here?”  I shrugged when I got an affirmative nod from the other girl.  “Thank you.  I was hoping for a bit of home.”</p>
<p>“Your home is like this?”</p>
<p>“Of course.”  I glanced around, pleased that the front room had finally come together.  My bedroom was still in a state of flux.  Perfection took time.  “What did you expect from one of the oldest Most Ancient pureblood family estates?”</p>
<p>I watched as the Hogwart’s graduate looked all around.  It was pleasant how Homer had created such intricate webs along the upper walls.  They matched well with the portraits from home – not to mention the Trumpet Creeper vines that stretched along the far wall, their flowers glowing in the candlelight.  If only I had thought to ask Grandmamma for some of the hybrid ivy variants that grew in the greenhouse: I could have made my morning smoothie upon getting up each day.</p>
<p>“You’re a strange one, Wednesday Addams.”</p>
<p>She said things like that, fairly often, but I could tell she meant it in fond jest.  My practicing of blending in with others was working out nicely so far.  I had not caused anyone to run screaming into the night yet, but the school year had not actually begun, so there was still time.  It was hard to pretend to be like everyone else.</p>
<p>I did not understand how people could do it.  </p>
<p>Be normal. </p>
<p>After slipping on my boots, I shook my head slightly and decided to take the compliment as it was.  “You’re one to talk.  How can you stand those large uncovered windows with the sun shining into your room first thing in the mornings?  Yuck.  I prefer the darkness.”</p>
<p>“True.  Not everyone is a morning person.  I bet if you took a chance and tried it, though, you’d love the sunshine to wake you up.”</p>
<p>I donned the provided teacher’s cloak over my shoulders.  “I have already been forced to endure such horrors.  My older brother and I were made to attend a summer camp once.  Our uncle’s first wife tricked our parents into it.  All happy singing and fun and games.”  My whole body shivered at the memory.</p>
<p>“Okay.  That doesn’t sound so bad.”  </p>
<p>I glared at her.  </p>
<p>“It wasn’t fun?”  Penelope hesitantly asked in response to my look.</p>
<p>“Not in the slightest.”  I answered immediately.  “I still have nightmares… and not the good kind.  It was a masterful move on my aunt’s part.  She almost succeeded in her plan to destroy my family and steal the Family fortune.”</p>
<p>“What?!?”</p>
<p>I closed my quarter’s door behind us.  “Oh, yes.  She was a true black widow.  Kept marrying rich husbands and then killing them for their riches.  Uncle Fester would have been her fifth dead husband.  Maybe just fourth.  I was quite impressed.  She would have succeeded, but she was sloppy in the end.  Didn’t pay enough attention to the details.”</p>
<p>“What happened to her?”</p>
<p>“Electrocuted.  Died horribly.  It was wonderful to watch.”</p>
<p>I saw Penelope shiver.  “How can you say that?”</p>
<p>“We won.  Aunt Debbie lost.  Those are the facts.  It happened almost a decade ago.  Old news, really.”</p>
<p>“I guess.  It’s just creepy.”  The Clearwater witch glanced at where I walked beside her.  “Did you ever figure out why Professor Evans has been acting so strange?”</p>
<p>At the question, a sigh escaped loudly.  The former Lady Potter was always going to be a potential problem considering my family’s actions… my actions, but I had not considered that it would happen so fast.  “No clue.  She was nice when we were introduced and I even helped her get settled in her new classroom.  Showed me pictures of her kids.  Everything was fine until the other day.  She avoids me like I have the plague or something.”</p>
<p>“She doesn’t talk to you, but she watches you.”</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>“Like, all the time.”  Penelope confirmed the troubling thought.</p>
<p>“Anyway.”  I decided to offer a change of subject.  “Forget about that.  I’d rather hear about what I need to know about Hogwart’s and the rest of Great Britain.”</p>
<p>“It’s boring here.” We both paused at the stairwell waiting for the steps to return to where they stood.  “Nothing really to tell.”</p>
<p>“That’s what you’re going with?   Boring?”  I arched my left eyebrow; the new piercing did not hurt any longer.  I needed to research a spell to put in the bauble.  “Should I list off the craziness that seems to seep from the walls within this castle for the past ten years or so?”</p>
<p>“There’s nothing to tell.”  Penelope protested again.  Weakly.</p>
<p>“What about the Lockhart scandal?  We can start there.”</p>
<p>“You heard about that?”</p>
<p>“Penelope.”  My voice was just a bit mocking.  “The entire magical world heard about Gilderoy Lockhhart.  A professor having inappropriate relations with one student is news.  Multiple students is major news.  Multiple students and one pregnant and all victims Obliviated?  News like that goes everywhere.  For all of that to happen at Hogwart’s?  I think every magical periodical and parchment with a subscription base had an article or three about it.”</p>
<p>The former Ravenclaw sighed loudly.  “Okay.  Fine.  It was bad.”</p>
<p>“Bad.”  My voice was flat.</p>
<p>“Everything you probably read?  All true.  His books were about mostly true events, but he didn’t do any of them.  He stole other wizards’ and witches’ accomplishments and claimed them as his own.  Lockhart was great at Obliviations.  That and lying.  And, well, taking naked photographs of underage girls.”</p>
<p>“How did he even get a job here?”</p>
<p>“Hogwart’s has always suffered keeping a Defense instructor.  For years, it had been rumored to be a cursed position.”  Penelope seemed to ignore how I perked up at her saying something was cursed.  </p>
<p>“No instructor for Defense had ever lasted beyond a single school year.  Most, in fact, never made it through the entire year.”  She shook her head as they both finally stepped on the steps leading to the main floor.  “The Headmaster at the time had been Dumbledore, and he had just left on his sabbatical with Professor Snape, leaving McGonagall in charge.”</p>
<p>“Sabbatical?”  I interrupted.  “That was when he started hunting Tom Riddle?”</p>
<p>“Yep.  Anyway, the School’s Board of Governors were scrambling to fill in instructors for Potions, Transfiguration and Defense.  Who wouldn’t jump at the chance for a respected, honorary member of the Dark Force Defense League?”</p>
<p>”The what?”  I almost laughed aloud.  “The Dark Force Defense League?  Sounds like a Saturday morning cartoon or something.”</p>
<p>“I know.  I know.”  Upon entering the Great Hall, I was surprised to see that we were the first to arrive.  Again.  “His classes were shite, but it wasn’t really any worse than we’d had the year before.”</p>
<p>“Before?”</p>
<p>“Professor Quirinus Quirrell.  He was my Muggle Studies instructor my first and second year.  Third year, he took the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.  Horrible mistake.  He’d been an okay teacher for Muggle Studies, but something happened before third year.  He came back to school with a stutter and he was afraid of his own shadow.  Classes were all about fighting vampires.”</p>
<p>“I’ll have to ask my Aunt Ophelia about that.”</p>
<p>“Your aunt?”</p>
<p>I nodded as we sat down at one of the empty tables.  “My mother’s older sister.  She’s a vampire.”</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>“She is.”  The table in front of them was suddenly filled with plates and platters of various breakfast foods.  I tried not to wrinkle my nose.  “Why’d Professor Quirrell not return?”</p>
<p>“There was some type of wizarding duel that occurred on the seventh floor of the castle.  There were several rumors spread by some Gryffindor upper classmen that claimed he and Professor Dumbledore were fighting.”  She shrugged as she started to fill her plate with eggs.  “All I can really say is that Professor Quirrell didn’t teach the last month of the school year, and Headmaster Dumbledore covered his classes.  Rumor said Quirrell was working for Riddle.”</p>
<p>“So, Quirrell.  Then Lockhart.”  I poked at the breakfast with a fork.  Dead.  “And Lockhart was a fraud.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah.  Definitely.”  The taller girl sighed.  “There was something almost magnetic about Lockhart.  You had to have seen his photographs and portraits.  He was gorgeous.”</p>
<p>“If that’s your type.”</p>
<p>“Girl, he was everybody’s type.  And he knew it.”  Penelope sighed again.  “Lockhart picked some of the prettiest girls from the Sixth and Seventh Years.  They were putty in his hands.  And after he had his fun, he Wiped their memories.”</p>
<p>“Swine.”</p>
<p>“He was.  Most definitely.  I don’t know if it made it outside of the local parchments, but the Aurors started investigating his book tours and stuff.  There are apparently a lot of unexplained memory losses that are now being attributed to him.”</p>
<p>“Someone needed to cut his dick off.”</p>
<p>I watched as the other witch ate a few more bites before continuing.  “I didn’t personally know any of the girls that he did that stuff with, but the professors were crazy mad.  The Headmistress personally held him down until the Aurors came for him.”</p>
<p>“What happened with the girls?  And the pregnancy?”</p>
<p>“I have no idea how many students he was photographing.  Just the one got pregnant.  Rollins from Slytherin.  I heard that she was betrothed to an old friend of her family.  I think her future husband accepted the pregnancy, especially after Lockhart’s fortune got offered up to his victims in recompense.”</p>
<p>“How many did he end up getting photographs of?”</p>
<p>“No idea.”</p>
<p>“Ugh.  Let us move on.  Who was next?  I’d think anyone after Lockhart would be better.”</p>
<p>“Professor Kingsley Shacklebolt.  He was an Auror.  Is an Auror.  Apparently, he got hurt chasing a dark wizard on the Continent.  Needed time to recuperate.  Headmistress McGonagall offered him the job.  One of the better years for Defense.  Auror Moody taught it the year after and then Professor Snape took the position the next.  It’s been his ever since.”</p>
<p>“Curse over?”</p>
<p>“Apparently.”  The older witch agreed.</p>
<p>“You flinched when mentioning Fourth Year, though.”</p>
<p>Penelope’s eyes widened at the accusation.  “What?  No I didn’t.”</p>
<p>“You did.  You’re not telling me something.”  I clarified.  “What happened that year?”</p>
<p>Again, I waited patiently as Penelope chewed bite after bite of food.  “You are going to owe me as many stories as I want to hear about you and your family after this.”</p>
<p>“Agreed.”</p>
<p>“Fine.”  Penelope set her fork down.  “What do you know about Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter?”</p>
<p>I sat up straight.  What?!?  It took every bit of the Family’s training to keep from revealing anything more than surprise at the other witch’s inquiry.  As it was, my mouth dried up.  I took a moment or three to moisten my black stained lips.</p>
<p>“Longbottom?  Potter?  What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“Exactly that.  What have you heard about Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter?”</p>
<p>“Uhm.  I guess basically what everyone else in the world knows?”  I glanced around the still empty Great Hall.  “Longbottom supposedly survived the Killing Curse after Tom Riddle, then known as Lord Voldemort, cast it at him.  He was hailed as the Boy-Who-Lived or some other ridiculous name.  He was secreted away into seclusion with his remaining family to protect him from Riddle’s followers.  You mean that stuff?”</p>
<p>Penelope was nodding along.  “And Harry Potter?”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure what you’re asking me.”</p>
<p>The blonde-haired witch smiled.  “There was a prophecy – and believe it or not, but the Divination Professor here at Hogwart’s made it.  It said that a boy born at the end of July was going to be born with the power to defeat him.”</p>
<p>“Really?  Kind of vague.  It could have been thousands of kids.”</p>
<p>“True, except for the fact that the prophecy said the child would be marked.”</p>
<p>“Marked?  How?”</p>
<p>“You’ve seen photographs of Neville Longbottom?”</p>
<p>“Sure.  Fairly normal looking person.  Stupid grin.  He’s got that scar on his face.”</p>
<p>Penelope was nodding.  “That’s the mark.”</p>
<p>“That’s not a mark.  That is a scar.”</p>
<p>“Well, scar or not, the Ministry and everyone else say that Neville’s scar is the prophesized mark, which means Neville Longbottom is the Chosen One to defeat Tom Riddle.”</p>
<p>“It says Tom Riddle by name?  The prophecy?”</p>
<p>“Well, no.  It refers to the Dark Lord, I think.”  The older witch admitted after a moment.  “But who else could it mean?”</p>
<p>“Who else?  Literally anyone else.  I mean, really?  My entire family is Dark.  From what I have read in the Library here, we are darker than the entirety of the Slytherin House all together.  Maybe even darker than Salthazar Slytherin himself.  I’m darker.”</p>
<p>“You’re not a Dark Lord, though.”</p>
<p>“Not yet.”  I added.</p>
<p>“You’re not a male.  You can’t be a Lord.  The prophecy said Dark Lord, not Dark Lady.”</p>
<p>“Okay.  We’ll set that argument to the side, for now.”  I pushed the remains of the breakfast away.  I hated eating something that I had not killed personally.  “Why is Neville still referred to as the Chosen One?  Riddle surrendered, right?”</p>
<p>“There was a big thing that happened at the Ministry after he turned himself in.  All of the Departments, including the Unspeakables, all got together and argued about how the prophecy hadn’t been fulfilled yet.”  She explained.</p>
<p>“Why do they not just have Neville kill him and be done with it?”</p>
<p>“No idea.  I think that Professor Dumbledore was involved in talks about that very thing.”</p>
<p>I considered inquiring more, but decided to alter the subject slightly.  “How does that involve Harry Potter?”</p>
<p>“What do you know about how Riddle found Neville Longbottom?”  She asked.  “How he became the Boy-Who-Lived?”</p>
<p>“The Longbottom’s were betrayed, weren’t they?  A former friend?”</p>
<p>“That’s what we know now.  You see, back then and for over two years after Riddle’s attack, no one knew who their betrayer was.  Not really.”</p>
<p>“Okay…”</p>
<p>“Both the Longbottoms’s and the Potter’s went into hiding because of the prophecy.  Any magical family that had a pregnancy due around July or August were notified.”</p>
<p>“That had to be a lot of families.”</p>
<p>“Not really.”  Penelope argued.  “The prophecy said a lot of other things, apparently.  It was easier to narrow down the possibilities.”</p>
<p>“Convenient.”  I said before taking a sip of juice.  I needed to get in touch with Mother and Father soon.  Maybe even before we were to meet while Pubert was scheduled to board the Hogwart’s Express in a little over a couple of weeks or so.  Everything that we had understood to be the truth regarding the destiny of Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom might have been wrong.  </p>
<p>“Neville Longbottom was born on July thirtieth.  Harry Potter on the thirty-first.  They were the likeliest targets for Riddle.”</p>
<p>“And Pettigrew betrayed the Longbottom’s.”</p>
<p>“Like I said earlier, we know that now.  He gave up the location of both babies, Neville ‘and’ Harry, but no one knew how Riddle found them back then.”</p>
<p>“I don’t understand.  So what?”</p>
<p>“Well, the story goes that Professor Evans, the Lady Potter back then, performed a spell to protect the children.  Rumors of Alchemy were thrown about.  It got crazy for a while.  The stigma of her maybe using the forbidden Craft ruined her chances at being accepted as a Sorceress.”</p>
<p>My eyes widened at that fact.  “That’s why she never became a Sorceress.”</p>
<p>“Exactly.”  Penelope confirmed.  “Neville’s paternal grandmother, Augusta Longbottom, acted as a sacrifice that protected her grandson.  Peter Pettigrew was chosen as Harry Potter’s protector as a potential sacrifice.  He was thought to have also perished.  It was theorized back then that it took both of their lives to save Neville Longbottom from the Killing Curse.”</p>
<p>“Plausible.”  I admitted.</p>
<p>“Most of that stuff is fairly well known.  Right?”  She waited until I silently agreed.  “Good.  What very few know unless you were forced to be a witness to the drama here was that Lord Sirius Black would eventually be accused of betraying the Longbottom’s and the Potter’s.”</p>
<p>“And he was innocent?”</p>
<p>The Junior Professor took a last bite of potatoes.  “Right, but no one knew that.  The Potter’s were attacked.  It was bad.  They were tortured and left for dead by some of Riddle’s followers, but they didn’t actually die.  They were in comas or something similar.  Harry Potter was spared from the attack because his parents hid him somewhere else.  Therefore, Sirius Black was sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban.  The Black name was in disgrace.  His wife and son were considered persona non-grata just about everywhere.  The Black fortune was seized.  It was bad.”</p>
<p>“Didn’t anyone know the truth?”</p>
<p>“Sure.  The Potter’s did, but they were at Saint Mungo’s under careful watch of the Healers.  It would be over a year before they woke up.”</p>
<p>“What about Neville’s parents?  Didn’t they know the truth?”</p>
<p>“They claimed to have not known.”  Penelope offered softly.  “There has been talk over the years that they did actually know the truth, but were somehow convinced to stay quiet.”</p>
<p>The Family already knew about the fate of Lily and James Potter, though it might be better to say James Potter and Lily Evans now.  “This is better than a soap opera.”</p>
<p>The blonde witch wrinkled her nose.  “You’re telling me.  Black was later exonerated after James and Lily Potter woke up and explained Black’s limited involvement in the protection of Neville, but by then the second betrayal was discovered.”</p>
<p>“Second betrayal?”</p>
<p>“While the Potter’s were under the care of Healers at Saint Mungo’s, their son vanished.  He had been hidden with Lily Evan’s squib family… a sister and her sister’s husband, I think.  Anyway, they were killed and Harry vanished.”</p>
<p>“No clues as to what happened?”  I asked.  It was strange to ask about a subject when I had some of the answers while the rest of the Magical World was completely in the dark.  “Do you know what happened to him?”</p>
<p>“No one knows.  Neville became the Boy-Who-Lived and Harry became the Boy-Who-Vanished.  Two children that could potentially be the subject of prophecy.  Both touched by tragedy.”</p>
<p>“How was Pettigrew’s part in all of this found out?”</p>
<p>“Lord Black somehow discovered that Peter Pettigrew was hiding at Hogwart’s.  There was a huge magical fight here at the school.  Gryffindor tower was nearly destroyed.”</p>
<p>“Okay.  But why did you…”  How to explain?  The older witch took pity on my situation.</p>
<p>“Why did that upset me?”</p>
<p>“Sorry, but yes.  It is a tragic story, but it happened nearly twenty years ago.  The part regarding Potter and Longbottom anyway.  The Pettigrew part later is what I don’t understand.”</p>
<p>”Pettigrew was an animagus.  You know what those are, right?  His animal form was a rat.”  Her voice lowered in volume.  “Lord Black broke into the Gryffindor’s tower and caught Pettigrew.”</p>
<p>“That’s good, right?”</p>
<p>Penelope nodded slowly.  “It was, but Black got the drop on Pettigrew because he was sexually abusing a boy in the Gryffindor dorm room.  A third year.  Lord Black was enraged because his son, Remy McKinnon-Black, was a Second Year Gryffindor.”</p>
<p>“Oh.”  Flashes of Jake Taylor and the things he and his cronies had done to me back at Ilvermorny suddenly flittered through my thoughts.  I pushed those down hard.  As hard and as quick as possible.  No need to relive that horrible day.  Not again… though I could feel the magic trying to respond to my anger.</p>
<p>“Yeah.  It seemed Pettigrew had been hiding as a rat with a wizarding family for years.  He’d been posing as the Familiar for one of the brothers, who he abused, and when he got passed to a younger brother, then that brother was abused, as well.”</p>
<p>“Okay.  But why…”</p>
<p>“Why do I get upset about it?”  Penelope Clearwater wiped away the moisture building up in her eyes.  “I had been kind of dating the older brother that had supposedly been first abused.”  She took a deep breath.  “Weasley.  Percy Weasley.  My almost boyfriend.  After Black caught Pettigrew, the Aurors came to sort through the mess.  Pettigrew was revealed to be alive after faking his death.  He was the true betrayer of both families to Riddle.  At first, it was thought that the younger brother was the only victim: Ronald Weasley.”</p>
<p>“I’m assuming not?”  </p>
<p>“What a joke.”  Penelope laughed harshly.  “During Pettigrew’s trial, he claimed that he had been sexually abusing Percy and Ronald at Hogwart’s for years.  During the summer months, the bastard said that he had even abused their mother.  Alluded to other family members.”</p>
<p>“Was any of that true?”</p>
<p>“There’s never been a good answer to that.  The Weasley’s are on old, pureblood family.  The mother had been a Prewett prior to her marriage, which was another once strong and powerful lineage.  Neither was considered Ancient or Noble, but they still were respected.  Well, by the Light Families.  That they had possibly been taken advantage of in such a horrible way… well, it was a fairly huge scandal.  Not Lockhart huge, but still…”</p>
<p>“What happened to them?”</p>
<p>“Pettigrew?”</p>
<p>“Well, him, too.”</p>
<p>“Peter Pettigrew was sentenced to be Kissed by Dementors.  That was carried out as soon as he was found guilty.”</p>
<p>“And the Weasley family?”</p>
<p>“All of their boys were pulled out of Hogwart’s by the parents.  Percy and Ronald, of course.  There were the twins, Fred and George.  They even had a sister: Ginny.  She’s the only one who stayed in school.  I think she was initially saved because she had been Sorted into Slytherin.  The rest of the family, all Gryffindor’s, supposedly went to Saint Mungo’s for answers.  I think the Healers were looking for traces of Memory Charms or long-term Potion usage.  Even the older brothers were called home, too.”</p>
<p>I was flabbergasted.  Just how many children had this family had?  “Are they okay?”</p>
<p>Penelope shook her head in the negative.  “The mother had a mental breakdown, of sorts.  I heard a rumor her family had her placed at Saint Mungo’s for a few months after everything happened.  The father, Arthur, had worked at the Ministry.  Last I knew, he had quit employment there and then the family moved away.  I tried staying in touch with Percy, but he only responded to the very first owl I sent him… and all he replied was that he and his family was dealing with the truth.  Ginny refuses to talk about any of it.”</p>
<p>“And the others?”</p>
<p>“No idea.  The twins were jokesters while at school.  I heard something last year that one of them was working at Zonko’s.  That’s a pranks supply store in Hogsmeade.”</p>
<p>“There’s a lot of sex and drama and memory loss going on here.”</p>
<p>The older girl barked out a sad laugh.  “I know, right?  That’s why you have to watch your back around here.  Hogwart’s may be considered the greatest place to learn magic, but it comes at a cost.  And with the numbers of students going up as much as it has since what happened at Beauxbatons, well…”</p>
<p>“Why’d you come back?  Accept the offer to be a Junior Professor?”  I inquired… actually interested in the answer.</p>
<p>“Really?”  Penelope leaned forward.  “There are more masters here than any other single location worldwide.  You know that.  It’s why you’re training to become the newest Sorceress here.”  </p>
<p>“It is.”  I admitted.</p>
<p>“Hogwart’s has the most comprehensive magical education, bar none, anywhere.  Alumni from here get their pick of employment.  Nobody turns away someone that studied magic here.  Excluding you, since you’re like ridiculously smart and powerful… if the best Ilvermorny or Durmstrang candidates applied for employment against the worst Hogwart’s student, Hogwart’s wins.  Every time.”</p>
<p>I pushed a few strands of black hair over an ear.  I missed the pigtails.  “Every time?”</p>
<p>Penelope nodded.  “Oh, it gets better.  If the worst applicant for the job was a pureblood?  The other choices wouldn’t even get an interview.”</p>
<p>“Britain is that bad?”</p>
<p>“Britain?  Wednesday, that’s everywhere.  Asia.  Africa.  Even the United States.  Hogwart’s is considered the best.  So what if a few students die every year or a teacher impregnates a student?  It is a scandal, but everyone still wants to learn here.  Hell, I bet a monster could be set loose within the castle and several students murdered and the school would remain open.  The Ministry here just sweeps it all under the rug.  I bet your government does the same.”</p>
<p>“I had no idea.”  I wondered if I could sacrifice a few students for a ritual I wanted to attempt soon.</p>
<p>The older witch nodded.  “Yep.  Now throw in the fact that for the very first time since the school’s founding, the Hogwart’s professors need help.  Assistants.  Junior Professors.  A few years doing that and I can choose my job.  No one is going to turn me away.”</p>
<p>“And that’s your reason?  For coming back?”</p>
<p>“Sure.  Besides, someone needs to try to make things better.  Why not me?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know if I can help make things better, but I’ll gladly murder anyone that dares harm you.”</p>
<p>“That’s sweet, but what can you do that I can’t?  I’ll admit that you are powerful and the idea that you might become the next recognized Sorceress is very intimidating, but we’re in a castle full of master level wizards and witches.  We have one of the Grand Sorcerers.  Lockhart succeeded because he had the power.  Everyone just accepts the danger.”  </p>
<p>She sighed loudly.  “Just more names to go on the Lost Wall.”</p>
<p>“The lost wall?”</p>
<p>Penelope nodded.  “The hallway that leads to the Headmistress’ office.  It has a list of every student and instructor that has ever died while attending Hogwart’s.  It’s really depressing.  Didn’t you notice it when you first arrived?  Met with the Headmistress?”</p>
<p>Had I seen that?  I finally shook my head in the negative.  “An entire wall?”</p>
<p>“Truthfully?  It is more than just one wall.  Almost the entire right side of the length of the corridor.  It lists their name, House affiliation, age and the date they died.  Gruesome, huh?  Looking at it and you sometimes cannot help but wonder if you’re gonna be next on the wall – the victim of another accident or maybe some up-and-coming dark lord’s nefarious plot.”</p>
<p>I was ready to try and continue asking questions of the other witch when some noise at the Great Hall’s entrance pulled both of our attention away from their conversation.  We both looked to see the three other Junior Professors finally arriving for breakfast.</p>
<p>“Morning.”  The dark chocolate brown-haired Marietta Edgecombe offered as she sat at the table to Penelope’s right.  Hannah Abbott with her artificially lightened hair quietly sat to her left.  The former was scowling, while the latter had that annoying smile firmly in place.</p>
<p>“Good morning.”  Penelope and I simultaneously offered the new arrivals.  Draco Malfoy took that moment to sit down fairly close to where I was sitting.</p>
<p>“Move over.”</p>
<p>I offered a tight-lipped smile and moved slightly to my left.  At least they were closer in dress to me than Penelope was, though I bet Hannah would be more colorful tomorrow.  “Good morning.  Sleep well?”</p>
<p>It was interesting to consider how the five of us had all somewhat bonded over their positions as Junior Professors, the first batch to ever be hired at the castle.  We had quickly decided to skip the formalities of surnames.  Propriety was all well and good, but we were in this situation together.  That became especially true for me after Professor Snape informed Draco about my quest to become a Sorceress.  That secret had not lasted very long.  And considering that Hogwart’s was going to be brimming with more students than ever since Beauxbaton’s Academy had been destroyed a few years ago… their entire student body being moved to other learning institutions.  Scotland, of course, being closest to France seemed to absorb the most transfers.  The Hogwart’s teaching staff had done an admirable job, but eventually new staff had to be hired… and instead of multiple professors for a single subject, the idea of teaching assistants – or Junior Professors – had been decided upon.</p>
<p>“Not at all.”  Draco responded.  “It always takes me weeks to get used to sleeping in a bed not my own.”</p>
<p>“Poor, little Draco.”  Marietta sang in a childish voice.  “Mummy not here to tuck you in.  No warm milk in a golden goblet for your tum-tum.”</p>
<p>The platinum-haired wizard and Junior Professor to Professor Snape’s class rolled his eyes.  “Just because you are used to lumpy mattresses and threadbare sheets, don’t begrudge those of us who are used to the finer things in life.”</p>
<p>“Draco’s right.”  Hannah interjected before Marietta could respond.  “I miss my bed, as well.”</p>
<p>I could definitely relate to their complaint.  The bed provided was excessively soft.  “Me, as well.  I’d almost rather sleep on the floor.”</p>
<p>“Let’s not go that extreme.”  Hannah grinned as she began piling food onto her plate.  “Hogwart’s can get really cold at night.”</p>
<p>“If you need a bed warmer…” Draco wiggled his eyebrows up and down.  Hannah made a gagging motion and looked ready to respond.  I wanted to agree.  He was good looking, but there was something about him that was somewhat… lacking.  He seemed fit, groomed well and I sensed that his magical ability was fine.  It was just that he seemed too… nice, maybe.</p>
<p>“You two looked deep in conversation.”  Marietta thankfully changed topics before that exchange could continue.  “Anything worth sharing?”</p>
<p>Penelope and I shared a look before seemingly coming to a silent agreement.  Penelope twisted her lips before answering.  “Just filling Addams here in about our stellar record of Defense Instructors and other events during our years here at Hogwart’s.”</p>
<p>Hannah snorted coquettishly.  If only the blonde-highlighted brunette didn’t smile as much as she did, I might have given her more of a chance.  As it was, her oval face and plain figure was too average to catch my interest as anything other than another Junior Professor.  </p>
<p>“How far’d you get?”  She asked.</p>
<p>“Peter Pettigrew.”  I offered.  The three recent arrivals all reacted negatively towards the name.</p>
<p>Draco responded first.  “Sickening.”  I glanced over to where he was carefully knifing strawberry preserves onto his toast.  “My family never got along well with the Weasley’s, but no one should have had to endure such.  That their daughter came away unscathed is a miracle.”</p>
<p>Marietta nodded, swallowing and then dabbing at her lips with a napkin.  “It’s so horrible.  Six eligible wizards to be so tainted.”</p>
<p>“Tainted?”</p>
<p>At the question, Hannah was the one to answer.  “Tainted may be a bit strong of a word to use.”  She shot a glare at the less attractive girl.  “Sullied might be a bit better.  No pureblooded family would consider a betrothal or marriage contract after what Pettigrew admitted to doing to them.  At least, nothing very favorable for the Weasley’s.”</p>
<p>“I thought it was maybe just the mother and the two boys.”</p>
<p>“That may be true.”  Draco answered.  “However, the Weasley’s did all that they could.  Saint Mungo’s will not reveal what was learned and the family won’t say, either.  Without substantiating the criminal’s accusations, only Ronald is confirmed at being abused.  Percy is a strong possibility.  The rest is hearsay and rumor.  The Weasley’s chose to have the entire family be under suspicion as opposed to saying definitively which were and which were not.  Ginny Weasley was able to undergo the Marriage Purity Test.  She’ll be all right.”</p>
<p>“How is that better?”</p>
<p>“They can claim to not be victims.  All except Ronald.  His abuse was caught in the act.  No saving his reputation.  The rest can try and put it behind them, but probably will not to keep those that they know would fail the Test from being excluded.”  Marietta answered before Draco could.</p>
<p>“I’ll never understand the British blood hierarchy.”</p>
<p>“You’re an Addams.”  Draco offered.  “There’s not really all that much you have to worry about.  I think your blood is considered the purest of any in this castle.”  All of the others nodded along with what the lone male at the table was saying.  Oh, if they only knew the truth.  The truth about me, but more importantly, the truth about the Addams Family as a whole.   </p>
<p>“Fine.”</p>
<p>I ignored how they all smiled at the quick agreement.  I wished for an opportunity to continue the conversation with Penelope regarding the Potter and the Longbottom children.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>…ooo000OOO * OOO000ooo…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After that wonderfully informative breakfast gathering, their chance at providing me with more information seemed to fizzle away.  Headmistress McGonagall had informed all of us shortly after we had finished their morning meal that the remaining Professors and instructors had finally arrived, which meant that each class now was beginning to prepare for the coming school year.  The Junior Professors that were each strictly assigned to a specific class or classes were suddenly very busy.  </p>
<p>Chances of idle conversation were few and far between.</p>
<p>As for me, the weeks following the metaphorical informational bombshells that were thrown were filled with in-depth interviews (i.e., interrogations) and expectations (better yet, demands) from each of the Professors, especially those that held masteries in the subjects that lent towards attaining the title of Sorceress.  I was sure that while Hogwart’s had offered the best opportunity to attain my lofty goal, they were of a single mind to make me truly work for it… blood, sweat and tears, all.</p>
<p>It was not all bad, though.  Deputy Headmaster and Charms Professor Flitwick was very enthusiastic to have a Sorceress Apprentice at his beck and call.  I learned through various late night conversation with the half-goblin, usually with him sitting at his desk while I was directed to put his classroom just the way he had always wanted it, that the Scottish school had been adding revolutionary classes over the past five years.  In fact, apparently Professor Aurelie Dumont of Beauxbaton’s had just recently been hired to teach a Charms specialization class: Enchantments.  Professor Dumont had even taken over the duties as the Ravenclaw Head of House even though she had never attended Hogwart’s.</p>
<p>When I asked why such classes were considered revolutionary, the diminutive professor explained that it had only been after Lucius Malfoy was instated as Chief Warlock of the British Wizengamot that the push for new magical classes had passed.  Apparently, attempts at updating Hogwart’s curriculum had been blocked during Dumbledore’s tenure in the position.</p>
<p>“Are you saying that Professor Dumbledore was purposefully limiting education?” was my first question asked in response.</p>
<p>The short wizard had paused at lighting his pipe; the acrid scent of the No-Maj match seemed to fill the classroom.  “Not at all, Miss Addams.  No.  Albus is as great a man as he is a great wizard, but too many sought him out as the solution to their problems.  He was thrown into the Headmaster position, possibly quite a few years too early after Headmaster Dippet retired.  Add to that, the Ministry named him Chief Warlock without even asking if he wanted the title.  Even the Office of Supreme Mugwump for the International Convention of Wizards was a surprise to him.”</p>
<p>“He didn’t seek those positions of power?” Pausing where I was alphabetically sorting the Professor’s spell books upon the bookcase behind his desk.  “He was politically untouchable.”</p>
<p>“Not so.”  He puffed at his pipe.  I hated goblin weed.  “Albus Dumbledore wore too many hats.  If he had held but one of those offices?  An excellent choice.  Two?  He would have been fine.  But three?  Specifically, those three?  No one could have succeeded.  That he held on as long as he did was a testament to the man’s abilities.”</p>
<p>“You’re saying that the politics got in the way of his doing the job?”</p>
<p>“And that, Miss Addams, is a lesson that is very important for you to have learned today.”  The wizard laughed.  “His friends and allies often wondered if his opponents, political or otherwise, intentionally tricked him into each title.  Education reform was put on the backburner for the Headmaster since he was busy negotiating new laws to properly keep up with the changing times.  The Chief Warlock was unable to properly oversee the language put into those new laws since the international community required his supervision on every little scuffle among the Magical World.  The Supreme Mugwump was away from the ICW due to the needs of the school.  It was madness.”</p>
<p>“Why didn’t he quit?”</p>
<p>“Quit?  Simply resign?  Just like that?  And how would the masses take to the idea that the greatest wizard of the current age apparently did not care for them?  For their children?  For everyone’s protection?”</p>
<p>Finished with the task, I took a seat at one of the classroom’s front desks.  “How did he escape it, then?”</p>
<p>Flitwick leaned forward, his voice dropping low.  “It’s no secret now that Tom Riddle was Lord Voldemort.  While it was initially believed that Neville Longbottom destroyed him that fateful October day nearly twenty years ago, the truth was that Tom had employed the use of several highly dangerous and completely illegal Rituals and Alchemies to ensure that he would not easily die.”</p>
<p>“And Professor Evans did the same to protect her son and the Longbottom heir, right?”</p>
<p>“That you should never speak of again.”  Professor Flitwick’s eyes grew cold.  “No one knows for sure what was done… and it will most likely stay that way.  Understand?”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
<p>“Good.  Now, as I was saying, Riddle’s rituals prevented him from crossing over.  I am not a Necromancer or Medicine Man, so I cannot imagine how he survived and in whatever form he was forced to endure, but Riddle eventually amassed enough power to possess a former Professor here.”</p>
<p>“Professor Quirrell?” </p>
<p>The half-goblin nodded.  “While possessing the Defense instructor, Riddle made off with a priceless alchemical artifact that strengthened his return to the mortal plane.  Professor Dumbledore took a Leave of Absence to hunt down Riddle, as well as to take what was to be temporary sabbaticals from the Chief Warlock office and the Supreme Mugwump position.”</p>
<p>I sat quietly within the silence as the Charms Professor stopped talking.  Sabbaticals and Leaves of Absence?  It took a moment before I looked up to where the sole wizard in the room was carefully observing me.</p>
<p>“Got it yet?”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir.”  I answered brightly.  “Nobody could force him to return from his time about.  Hunting a potentially dangerous criminal… that was all for the vaunted ‘greater good’ that was Professor Dumbledore’s public mantra.”</p>
<p>“Exactly.”  He puffed at his pipe.  “Those positions are extremely important.  They could not just be left vacant for too long.  Eventually, it was decided that if he was unable to continue then replacements would have to be found.”</p>
<p>“Lucius Malfoy was elected Chief Warlock and Endora Dobson was named Supreme Mugwump.”</p>
<p>“And the interim Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, was allowed to officially take the Headmistress position for the school.”  He finished.</p>
<p>I nodded.  This was fairly exciting.  “And when the hunt for Riddle ended… or rather, after Albus Dumbledore decided to stop hunting him, then he could apply for a simple Professor job right here, where he wants to be.”</p>
<p>“Yes.  Quite right, Miss Addams.  Though being a professor is not so simple.”  Flitwick sat back in his chair, his short legs propped up on a pile of books next to the desk, maybe just for that purpose alone.  “Now Professor Dumbledore can properly teach those specific students that need his vast experience, as well as to watch over Wizarding Britain without being pulled in to many conflicting directions.”</p>
<p>“Specific students like Neville Longbottom?”</p>
<p>He took the pipe from between his teeth and seemed to consider his answer carefully.  “I am quite sure that young Mister Longbottom will be one of the few that Professor Dumbledore will offer guidance.  Will that be a problem?”</p>
<p>“No, sir.”  I answered.  “I must admit I was surprised that he was not here as an Apprentice himself.  If not to become a Sorcerer, but to learn directly under Professor Dumbledore.  The prophecy, after all.”</p>
<p>“Ah.  You are, of course, referring to Mister Longbottom’s current title as the ‘Chosen One’ and the prophecy about his conflict with the Dark Lord, yes?”</p>
<p>“It does beg the question, sir.”</p>
<p>“I suppose it does.”  I watched as the Charms Master paused to puff more of the Goblin Weed.  “I guess it will not be a secret for long, but… yes.  Mister Longbottom, while not officially listed as an apprentice at Hogwart’s or to a particular Master, will be within the castle quite a bit.  He and his friends have a potentially dire path before them.  Headmistress McGonagall has offered him every curtesy towards the potential culmination of Fate’s choice.”</p>
<p>I waited, unsure of what to say.  Luckily, Professor Flitwick seemed willing to continue explaining.  “In fact, the faculty has been encouraged to see if you, Miss Addams, might be willing to offer whatever insights and aid you could for Mister Longbottom and the coming conflict.”</p>
<p>“You believe in the prophecy?”</p>
<p>“Well, that’s an interesting query, if I’ve ever heard.  To answer simply… no.  Goblins put absolutely no substance in the ramblings of Seers, Prophets or others that claim to see tomorrow today.  It seems all hogwash.  We refuse to accept the Divine Classification of Magic, much as the rest of the world refuses to trust such poppycock.”  He spoke over any attempt to interrupt.  “However, the possibility of a person or persons to take the word of prophecy and create the very circumstances that bring it to fruition?  That I believe.”</p>
<p>“Self-fulfillment, then?”</p>
<p>“Yes.  Exactly.”</p>
<p>I considered the various possibilities of having to potentially interact with the Boy-Who-Lived.  It was not in her initial plan, but she was nothing if not adaptable.  </p>
<p>“I’ll consider helping.”  I finally offered.  “Though my own studies must come first.”</p>
<p>“Of course, Miss Addams.  Of course.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>And now for something a little different... let's look back a few years.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>CHAPTER FOUR<br/>Memories from 1985</p>
<p> </p>
<p>My aunt had cornered me a week before coming to Hogwart’s.  She handed me a box full of vials, each filled with memories.  Demanded I take them with me to Scotland, then left.  </p>
<p>Why Aunt Hester had insisted on me looking through the case full of memories was beyond me, but I was ever the dutiful niece and agreed.  The threat of her telling Mother was completely unnecessary, I thought, but it did encourage me to actually remember to put the box of vials into my suitcase.  I had ignored it for weeks, but a note came by owl this very morning reminding of my promise.  I watched as the rusty-colored strand of memory fell from the tiny container and into the mixing bowl.  When asked about it, Father had laughingly explained that an actual Pensive was unnecessary… so here I was using a spare bowl from the Kitchens. </p>
<p>I really hated being immersed into the memories of the dead.  The silvery strands provided by the living were bad enough, but these copper slash rust appearing strands of Grandmamma’s doing allowed for a darker connection, almost as if the dead were watching you while you watched them.  A last chance at grasping at life from the recently deceased, all by way of Necromancy.</p>
<p>From the shadows of the memory, I was able to look around.  I realized I was at a police station of some sort.  Definitely not America.  England or the European continent, maybe?  It all seemed familiar, though I knew I had never been here before.  So, I watched as several officers congregated around a young version of Father, arguing.  </p>
<p>What was he doing here?  Where was Mother?  </p>
<p>I immediately turned to find the focus of this recollection.  Around a dirty pane of glass finally gave me a glimpse of whom I was supposed to be watching.</p>
<p>A tiny child sat rocking in a plastic chair.  I could not see his face, his head covered by his arms.  I assumed the waif to be a boy, though the mismatched clothing gave little indication.  His clothes were ripped and torn, dirty… but what caught my attention, even within the gloom of a deceased person’s memory, was that he was covered in viscera and blood.  And a lot of it.</p>
<p>I watched as my mother, younger appearing than she currently was, approached the tiny child.  She was stalking her prey.  None of the police officers or other adults all about this station paid any mind to Mother.  Therefore, Father was the distraction.  I could hear him vaguely talking about the unlikely possibility of a child serial killer.  Interesting.  Mother eventually sat in a chair next to the shaking and nervous boy, patiently awaiting acknowledgement, I supposed, but time seemed irrelevant and neither spoke for the longest time.</p>
<p>I chose to glance about my surroundings.  Nothing else was really of note.  Papers on the various desks were illegible, so whomever provided this memory had not even glimpsed the papers… but that couldn’t be right.  Things unseen would appear blank.  These had shapes.  Had they not understood the language?  My gaze returned to the little boy.  Could he not read yet?</p>
<p>There was the lone female officer that almost seemed to watch as Mother approached the little boy, but her gaze strode past them.  A trick of the light, maybe.  A No-Maj would have not noticed Mortica Addams if she did not want to be found.</p>
<p>This child had provided the memory.</p>
<p>That Aunt Hester wanted me to learn about the history of this child.  Who was he?  I needed more information. What did my aunt want me to know regarding his life before his death? </p>
<p>A quick look over to where the boy and my mother were sitting showed nothing new was happening, so I chose to explore as far as the child’s memory would allow.  From previous experience, I knew that the farther I travelled from the source the less detail I would be able to understand.  The obvious proof of that was that while I recognized Father because, well, he was my father, to anyone else he might not be so easily recognized.  His good looks and always-present smile were not there, and his mustache was missing… though he is younger here.  Maybe he had not grown it yet?</p>
<p>The memory degraded badly anywhere outside of the child’s immediate location.  I could watch, but closer investigation was impossible.  Satisfied that Aunt Hester wanted me to stay with Mother and the child, I returned to wait for the scene to play out.</p>
<p>“’ello.”  A broken, scratchy voice emanated from where the bundled up child sat. His rocking back and forth had ended and he watched my mother warily.  His instincts, at least, were on point.  Prey should always carefully watch the predator in their midst.</p>
<p>“Hello.”  Mother answered simply.  </p>
<p>“You gonna ‘unish me?”  His voice was pitiful.</p>
<p>Mother appeared surprised at his question.  “What kind of punishment do you think you need?”</p>
<p>At the question, the tiny boy shook feverishly.  I watched my mother smile at the boy, a smile that I often witnessed whenever she looked at me.  Sometimes my brothers, but I selfishly preferred to think of that smile as mine.  Why was she smiling at him that way?</p>
<p>My mother ran her hand through the boy’s messy, black hair.  I assumed it was black, as dark as it seemed within the memory, but the thoughts of the dead were often off just a bit.  As it was, the memory held very little color at all; the vines of whatever horrible fate awaited from those below, leaching way the last hints of hope.  I wanted to see his eyes.</p>
<p>He must have been starved for affection.  At my mother’s touch, the floodgates opened and the little spawn launched himself into her waiting arms.  I drew closer to listen to his epic tale of woe and not understanding.  This unnamed boy cried of parents that had left him and of the strange treatment he suffered at the hands of his relatives.  He bemoaned that he had never meant to be any trouble to anyone, ever, but it wasn’t his fault that he hadn’t known how to answer the ugly looking teacher when she called his name.  I patiently endured the boy’s explanations that he was a freak.  He had assumed it was his name since that was all that anyone had ever referred to him.  </p>
<p>I though Freak was a perfectly acceptable name.  I had a cousin named Itt.  My father’s Familiar is named Thing.  There were Lumpy and Beast and Monstra.  All acceptable names.  Freak sounded like a fun name to me, but it wasn’t my story to tell.</p>
<p>He continued talking within the memory, explaining how when asked repeatedly at first by the ugly teacher and then by other adults, regarding why he had not answered when a different name was called… well, that had started a whole heap of trouble.  He seemed was unable to fathom why everyone had gotten so upset.  No.  Instead, he had observed how all of the adults talked about other things – hidden things.  </p>
<p>His guardians were called.  Family, maybe.  I listened as he related to my mother about how at the school they had all seemed nice and apologetic and kind.  He said that there were smiles, even towards him though he could never remember them smiling at him before.  He remembered that the woman’s eyes, how her eyes did not smile.  She was scared of him.</p>
<p>My eyes rolled as the boy told Mother about the crackers and juice box he had been given by the school’s staff while they had waited for his supposed family to arrive.  He cried that his aunt, maybe, took the half-full juice box unopened crackers and thrown it in the bin, her eyes narrowing if he dared complain.  She shouldn’t have taken away his crackers.</p>
<p>Words were spoken, though he was not sure what.  It was like a dream, the boy offered softly.  The woman saying words that somewhere deep inside that he had longed to hear.  To experience.  But not her eyes.  She had held his hand and we walked to the car, the man following.  Another child came up the rear.  Their son?  The child told Mother about the car ride home; that everyone was silent.  Someone usually spoke.  They abhorred silence.  At least, that was what he assumed, considering that the large man usually never stopped talking.  No, it was quiet car ride.  </p>
<p>He thought it was nice.  </p>
<p>Soothing.</p>
<p>The house they called home was the beginning of the end of his tale.  He remembered hearing the door closing, the lock clicking, before his world became nothing but pain.  The child cradled within my mother’s arms cried that the noises were loud.  The large man screaming at him.  The ugly woman yelling at him.  The other boy laughing, possibly at the insanity of it all.  </p>
<p>Or was it he that had been laughing?</p>
<p>Along with the noise, the cacophony that wouldn’t let up, there was pain.  Oh, the pain.  Such pain that he had never experienced and I only dreamed of experiencing.  He tried recall the progression, but it all ran together.  Pain was like that, he supposed.  He thought maybe his head was where initially had been hurt.  Across the face, maybe.  Wasn’t there a was a heavy force that whipped his gaze around, his neck twisting?  That was right before his ribs.  His stomach.  His left leg bent at an impossible angle.  Maybe a kick?  More than one, possibly?</p>
<p>Had his family finally decided to fight back?</p>
<p>I ran my eyes over him.  To remember such abuse, but there was no sign of what he spoke about.  His clothes, maybe, but his skin was unbroken.  No bruises.  All that I could see was the leavings of blood and gore upon his person, but no indication that it was his.  Maybe he was more interesting than I had originally given him credit for.</p>
<p>It was so much, he confessed.  Too much for him.  Worse than ever before.  Worse than when he had burnt breakfast… or when he had thrown the plate at her head.  When he asked about Christmas presents that he asked for but not received… knives were a perfectly acceptable gift, right?  </p>
<p>Or where his parents were…</p>
<p>Somehow, he wished for the pain to go away.  Forever.  He wished.  It was a bad wish, perhaps, but it was his wish.  When he was named Freak, he never would have made such a wish… but now named something else.  A real name, well, someone with a name like his deserved to make a wish, right?  It had to be a wish since no one else had ever offered to help.  Well, not since the ugly woman and the other adults had given him that minuscule glimmer of hope.   They were just as bad as his family.  </p>
<p>Should the school be punished instead?</p>
<p>I wondered suddenly why this tiny boy spoke aloud of my secret dreams…</p>
<p>“Well, it is very nice to meet you.”  Mother offered.  “I can help you, instead, if you so wish.”</p>
<p>He stared into the eyes of Mortica Addams, my mother.  She now asked his name – if he still wanted to be called Freak.  Her asking seemed to bring him out of those memories.  I watched as he blinked several times, his face showing amazement that someone as pretty as Mother wanted to talk to him.  Wanted his opinion.  Was interested in him.  </p>
<p>My mother continued to smile at him.  </p>
<p>I took a moment to observe that the other adults here ignored the small child, leaving him alone with my mother.  It seemed they really did not really understand what to do with him, but to leave him to the mercies of anyone seemed wrong.   I watched as the child tried explaining how dangerous he was; about trying to get it all to stop.  The pain, that is.  The noise.  That as Freak he had not deserved salvation, but now named not just a freak, he had saved himself from his family.  How they were no longer alive as because he had made a wish that was selfish.  His family was dead… all of them.  </p>
<p>“My name is Morticia.  Morticia Addams.”  My mother introduced herself.  “What should I call you?”</p>
<p>The boy seemed determined to not answer about his name.  “Do you know why I don’t hurt anymore?”  He asked instead.  “I don’t understand.  Did killing them do this?”</p>
<p>The boy was obviously magical.  That was the only explanation that made sense to me.  Well, he could be insane, but craziness wasn’t enough to draw Mother and Father to a police station somewhere in England or wherever this place was, though the kid’s accent hinted to England being the correct answer.</p>
<p>He did not know about magic yet.</p>
<p>“I guess you wouldn’t, would you.”  Mother said.  “It’s a secret.  You are special.  So very special.”  I wasn’t very sure that he believed her, that he was special.  Mother was being nice.  Nicer than almost everyone else probably had ever been to him… the way his dull, lifeless eyes seemed to come alive.  </p>
<p>I think his eyes are green.  Not green like mine, pale and bottomless.  No, his were like the Killing Curse.  The color grabbed you and held you.  </p>
<p>He shook his head.  “B-but the bruises and my arm.  Or my leg.  It’s not broken anymore.  Nothing hurts now.”</p>
<p>After looking him over carefully, my mother pulled out a thin, black stick from the sleeve of her dress and waved it around in a complicated pattern.  I always loved watching Mother perform magic.  While she did that, he sneezed and I wondered if it was the same for him as it was for me, the smell of burning that seemed to linger whenever magic was performed.  Could he smell magic, too?</p>
<p>“Do you see that man over there arguing with the police officers?”  She pointed towards Father.  When he gave the affirmative, she smiled again.  “That is my husband, Gomez.  Gomez Addams.”</p>
<p>He looked over to where my father was currently standing on a desk and yelling at the various officers.  The man… Gomez Addams, Father… was laughing as he held aloft one of the Bobbies’ batons and was waving it around like a sword or something.  I watched, as the little boy could not help but smile a bit at Father’s antics.</p>
<p>“He and I have wanted a child for so long.  Longer than I ever thought.”  Morticia Addams spoke, pulling his and my attention back to her.  “So very, very long.  My mother told me that Gomez and I had to come to England.  To come to this dreadful little place and that I would have a child.  I thought one thing, but apparently something else was meant to be.”</p>
<p>“You want me to help you find a child?” Okay, so this boy wasn’t the smartest.  Maybe he was for a spell?  Some component for a ritual so that Mother could have children?  Is this how Pubert was conceived?</p>
<p>“No, dearest.  My little darling.  I think you’re meant to be my child.”  She brushed her long, black hair over her shoulder.  “I can feel your pain.  It calls to me.  Sings to me.  I want you to be mine.”</p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p>“I don’t think I can.”  He opposed her. I wondered again the meaning of this memory.   “My parents are coming back for me one day, once they stop being lazy good-for-nothings and wake up.  That’s what my aunt said.  I think I might need to wait for them.”</p>
<p>Mother tilted her head to the side, appraising.  “I think you’d be better off with me.”  I watched my mother’s eyes began to glow.  “I would treat you as my own, destiny and fate be damned.  Please.”</p>
<p>“I can’t.”  He resisted.  Mother was using magic on him and this child of no more than five or six was resisting.  What power he possessed.</p>
<p>I wondered the significance about this memory.  Mother wanted him.  Offered him a home.  A Family.  Was he an Addams?  What happened?</p>
<p>“You can.”  My mother’s voice was like music. Even within a dead child’s memory, it called to me.  I had to resist from answering her, even now, years later.  He had no chance.  He could not resist.  He didn’t want to resist.  Mother would be his mother now.  Forever.</p>
<p>“Okay.”  He finally offered.</p>
<p>Mother smiled then, but it was a different smile.  It was truly a beautiful thing, Morticia Addams’ smile now.  He wanted to make her smile like that forever and ever.  I knew that because it was the same for me.  I knew the power Mother held.  “Okay?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”  He cried.  Mother was crying, too.  I wondered if he could understand the tears, both in his eyes and in hers.  There was something about this moment… it seemed perfect.  </p>
<p>Destined.  </p>
<p>Fated.  </p>
<p>I found that I was crying, as well.  Did I shed tears for the same reason he did?  </p>
<p>I was terrified that we might.</p>
<p>“Perfect, then.  I’ll get Gomez to get right on that.  I refuse to be separated from you a moment longer.  Let us get your things, whatever they might be, and we can go straight to the hotel.  Gomez will be thrilled to be headed home.  I think he was growing weary of us being here and away from home for so long.”</p>
<p>“My things?”  He tilted his head.  The remnants of the blood and gore that had not been completely washed off his skin and hair scattered and cracked at the movement.  “All I have left is there.”  He pointed across from where they were sitting, towards another office.  I tried to peer into the window, but met only the swirling gray of an area that the boy had not seen himself.</p>
<p>What was in the room?</p>
<p>My mother followed his indication, her eyes widening slightly.  “Really?  I did not expect… I wonder if...  Hmmm.  Not my first choice, but who am I to separate you from your possessions.  And if it doesn’t work out, there’s plenty of things that it can be used for.  Gomez will be so pleased.”</p>
<p>I saw the boy smile.  What was it that my aunt wanted me to see?  I was so confused.  My mother then stood and approached the office door, her smile widening.  I was almost terrified to know now.  </p>
<p>I sighed as I felt the memory ending, allowing me opportunity to escape back to the reality of the world.  I had so many questions now.  Did I contact Aunt Hester or Mother first?  </p>
<p>I never did learn the name of that child.  I wondered if it was very important.  </p>
<p>Probably.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Let's explore the castle...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>CHAPTER FIVE</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You think that you are prepared to become the next Thaumaturgist?”  The thin Witch that sat behind the desk questioned me immediacy upon my entrance into Classroom 7A.  I paused as she stood, her hands settled on her hips, the light red robes doing nothing to hide her thinness.  “You think you can become a Master of Arithmancy so easily?”</p>
<p>I drew up to my tallest.  A very impressive five foot five inches.  “I do.”</p>
<p>“Hmf.”  She grunted.  The Professor looked down at her desk, a copy of my transcripts and file there for her perusal.  I waited as she scanned through a few of the pages before she finally found the object of her search.  She lifted a single page from the stack there.  “Top one percent in Mathematics.  Three letters of commendation, one of which is signed by the Governess of the Salem Witches’ Institute.  She says, and I quote, ‘Wednesday Addams possesses one of the most unique minds in the comprehension of higher mathematics.  Her insight into the reintegration of base numerology for geometric purposes while determining algebraic functions is nothing less than groundbreaking.’  End quote.”</p>
<p>“Madame Leota is too kind.”</p>
<p>“Hogwash.”  Professor Vector spat.  “Too kind.  That old witch is usually so deep into searching for secrets within her crystal ball that I am amazed she took the time to know your name, much less appreciate your supposed revolutionary insights for Arithmancy.”</p>
<p>This was not going at all the way it was supposed to.  This mastery was to be the easy one.  I had completed so many spells already.  I held it outwardly together while I tried to discern some alternative to my plans to become a Sorceress.  </p>
<p>“Nothing to say?”  She asked – her voice scornful.  “Cannot defend your own work?  Some Arithmancer you will make.”  She dropped the paper she had been reading.  “Did you steal the work submitted?  Is that how a little girl like you got here?”</p>
<p>That was it.  If she wanted a fight, I would give her one.  </p>
<p>“I’m sorry if the numbers are too advanced for you.”  My mouth shot off before my mind could consider all of the ramifications of their meaning.  “That old adage, if you can’t do, teach.  Is that why you’re so angry right now?”  I walked further into the room, glancing over the posters of mathematical formulae listed for students to reference.  “I can see why having a nineteen year old making more waves in the past four years would make a supposed best-in-her-field so upset.”</p>
<p>To my surprise, the Professor began to laugh.  Taking a moment to push my dark hair over my ear, I could only gape at the woman as she sat back down, still chuckling about who knew what.  I could do nothing but wait until she finally calmed down.</p>
<p>“There it is.”</p>
<p>I moved closer to the desk.  Closer to her.  “There is what?”</p>
<p>“The fire.  The inner Witch I’ve been looking for.”  She finally answered after a long, studious look.  </p>
<p>“I don’t understand.”</p>
<p>Professor Vector waved her hand as she rolled her eyes towards the ceiling above us.  “All I’ve seen this week is some little meek girl that everyone says is so helpful.  A perfect assistant to whatever needs or wants that they have.  So accommodating.”</p>
<p>I was bewildered.  Was that not what I was supposed to be?  I could not help but point out that the very points she was condemning were the expectations that Headmistress McGonagall had listed for me to try to emulate.  All my studies towards normal human behavior was to be nice… or, at least, as nice as I could attempt to be.  And now I had one of the Masters I needed for the Sorceress Challenge throwing all of that hard work back into my face.</p>
<p>“Where is the witch that mathematically decoded the answering key to the Transfiguration N.E.W.T., forcing the MACUSA Department of Education to revamp the entire exam two days before it was to be administered?”  She suddenly leaned forward and started shifting through my file again.  Her finger pointed at a page that was heavily marked in red ink.  “Or the splendid use of Arithmancy to create a direct counter spell against the Anti-Cheating Charm placed on the quills used for the N.E.W.T. written portions of testing?”</p>
<p>Professor Vector looked me directly in the eye.  “Did they ever learn how you did it?”</p>
<p>I shrugged.  “Offering them the equation for that particular spell got me extra points on my N.E.W.T.’s for both Transfiguration and Arithmancy.  It was that or face possible expulsion.”</p>
<p>She grabbed another paper marked in red, though not near as much as the previous page.  “You are perfect contrast in expectations, Miss Addams.  On paper, if you focus solely on your scores that are without peer, you are the perfect witch.  You deserved the accolades thrown your way.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.”  I said sincerely.</p>
<p>“That is until you start looking at the comments from your teachers and classmates.”  She glanced at the page in her hand.  “Now I am seeing someone completely different.  Moody.  Nonsocial.  Disrespectful of authority.  Dangerous.  Potentially psychopathic.”  </p>
<p>I scoffed.  The professor looked up at me from her seat behind her desk.  “You laugh, but there are a lot of serious claims here.  Influential names that do not like you.  They accuse you of serious offences.  Some worthy of action.  Expulsion at the very least.  Manslaughter?  Guilty, but for extenuating circumstances? Not innocent, however? After reading, I expected incarceration.  Imprisonment.  Did you actually replace the oxygen within a student’s lungs with helium?”</p>
<p>At her question, I tried to formulate the best response.  “He deserved it.”</p>
<p>“How…?  In what possible way could anyone deserve to be murdered?  I have to admit that after reading this, I questioned Minerva’s decision to allow you to learn here.  And I’m supposed to teach you?  Help you?  Explain it to me, Miss Addams.”</p>
<p>Well, at least this time I was being given an opportunity to defend myself.   A novel concept, fairness.  “A student by the name of Taylor, Jake Taylor, forced himself upon me.  He and his friends.”</p>
<p>The professor looked at the page again, her eyes narrowed as she took a moment to read the report again.  I knew what she was searching for and that she was not going to find it.  The Taylor family was both extremely rich and very well connected.  They were not as wealthy as the Addams Family, but their political connections were better.  The investigation and subsequent reports filed had been heavily edited.  They could not let their darling boy be remembered as a rapist.</p>
<p>“You say you were attacked?”</p>
<p>I moved my head in the affirmative.  “I was.”</p>
<p>“And the report says nothing about that because?”</p>
<p>“You mean for reasons such as Mister Taylor’s father being a major contributor to the current MACUSA President?  A President who coincidentally hates my mother.  Or how about that several donations to Ilvermorny’s fiscal budget came from his and the others’ families?  All anonymously, of course.  It was easier to keep the peace at a school where one side was the memory of the star fielder and the rest of the team for the Horned Serpent House versus the lone student who was, as you said earlier, nonsocial and disrespectful of authority?  A potential sociopath.”</p>
<p>“I said psychopath.”</p>
<p>I shrugged.</p>
<p>“This Taylor boy really attacked you?”</p>
<p>“He did.  He and his friends.”  I closed my eyes.  I was safe.  He would never hurt me again.  “Jake Taylor forced me to imbibe several doses of Amortentia.”</p>
<p>Seeing the absolute shock on the older witch’s face, I gathered that in her research that she had not yet gotten that part of the story.  The Taylor family was better at cover-ups that I expected.  I would have to relay this to Father.  His warning to the school might need a bit more.</p>
<p>“He doused you with a love potion?”</p>
<p>“He did.”</p>
<p>“What did he hope to accomplish?”  Her eyes were not as accusatory as they had been.  Progress, maybe.  “Was he trying to force a child upon you?  Force a union between your families?”</p>
<p>I laughed at the absurdity of that idea.  Spoken like an administrator at a school that expected the best from the children taught.  If only he had wanted something as simple as forcing a female to bear his child, but the bastard knew I could not conceive.  He’d learned that I was not yet the witch I pretended to be.  Apparently, the files regarding my time at school prior to my operation now listed me as a female student.</p>
<p>Aunt Ophelia’s actions worked.</p>
<p>“No.  No child.”  I motioned towards a chair.  Professor Vector nodded, so I sat primly with my legs crossed as I thought of how much to reveal.  “He wanted to embarrass me.  Humiliate me.  In front of the school and everyone else.  I was to be his slave in every way until the potion wore off.  A willing whore for him and his friends.  He wanted to destroy me.”</p>
<p>“You said several doses.”</p>
<p>“I did.”  I confirmed.  “My Grandmamma is not quite a Master of Potions, but she knows her way around a laboratory.  After my family came and got me, she estimated four doses remained in my system.”</p>
<p>“Death can occur at around six, but usually only after the recipient has burned through the potion.  After they, well….”  The older witch offered, but I already knew that.</p>
<p>“It can be.  My grandmother tested me hours later.  We figure that I had a minimum of eight doses, all told.  Those findings kept me out of prison.”</p>
<p>“You should be dead!”</p>
<p>Nodding, I smiled darkly.  “I am not so easily murdered, Professor Vector.  My Grandmamma has been adding poisons and other dark potions to my food for years.  Since I was very little.”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“For the very reason of what happened to me.  My body now has a natural resistance to those things.  Immunity to some.  I carry enchanted items to boost that even further.  It was suggested during the inquiry that I was mistakenly given too many doses because my attacker assumed that I had not received the first few when I did not immediately begin fawning all over him.  In his idiocy, he kept giving me more and more until I finally reacted.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Merlin.”  The dark-haired witch offered.</p>
<p>“So, after he finally got enough Amortentia into my system, I was under his thrall.  You will understand that I do not want to relive what occurred then.”</p>
<p>“How did you get out from under the effects?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t?”</p>
<p>“But.”  I could see the confusion within her gaze.  “How did you kill him?”</p>
<p>“Jake Taylor deserved to die.  He and his friends.”  I enjoyed the widening of the Professor’s eyes as I smiled my smile.  “What Jake Taylor failed to take into consideration is what being truly in love means to me.”</p>
<p>“How did his accomplices escape?”</p>
<p>“I was ‘saved.’”  My fingers used air quotes.  “Before I could finish.”</p>
<p>Silence stretched between us after that revelation.  I did not choose to explain further and the Professor was wise enough to quit for further explanation.  I sat patiently, carefully examining my nails.  The black polish I had put on earlier was already chipping.  Was the Scottish weather affecting it somehow?</p>
<p>“In regards to your Sorceress Challenge.”  She changed the subject, a fat that I was most grateful for currently.  “I have looked over your spell submissions.  Very impressive.  I think that I can see a few ways to tweak those you did not present to the ICW and have them ready in a few weeks’ time.  A couple of months at maximum.”</p>
<p>I nodded.  “That sounds wonderful.  Thank you.”</p>
<p>She smiled at my words.  “We can get the rest done maybe before the holidays.”  She took a deep breath.  “I will need you to handle my younger classes.  Third Year, at the very least.  Fourth Year, maybe.  I will have to research and confirm the use of prime numbers for the outlying equations.  It sounds legit, but it goes against everything I was taught.”</p>
<p>“My instructors at Ilvermorny said the same.”</p>
<p>We continued discussing the various duties and expectations Professor Vector would require of me while acting as an apprentice to her as a Master.  I was pleasantly surprised at how well the two of us got along, especially with how the interview had begun… not to mention having to somewhat relive those dark days at school.  I could only hope that the rest of my time would not be so emotionally draining.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>…ooo000OOO * OOO000ooo…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was something… soothing, I guess I would have to admit, about slowly running my hand along an animal’s fur, the gentle purring that it evoked.  Missus Norris was currently making use of my lap as her personal resting spot.  I had not intended to pay her any attention, but much as Pubert could somehow get you to do his bidding, so too had the feline twisted me to her will.</p>
<p>It was relaxing to just sit her on the balcony ledge.  The moving stairwell for this particular means for reaching the lower floors had decided to leave me stuck upon this landing for whatever reason.  I chose to enjoy my moments of solitude while it lasted.</p>
<p>It never did.</p>
<p>Finding a corner within Hogwart’s to be alone was not going to be as simple as one might think considering the size of the structure.  English and Scottish Castles were designed to protect entire villages from invaders.  There were multiple rooms for all manner of uses, from the dungeons threaded deep in the ground and under the lake to the towering spires that originally might have held maidens pure awaiting some knight to come and save the day.  I knew that I had to take the time to savor the silence while it lasted.  Classes and students would arrive soon.</p>
<p>Ilvermorny was nothing like Hogwart’s School.  Not physically, anyway.  Excluding the fact that this castle had been established centuries prior to the American offshoot and was more, robust maybe, in the feeling of magic, my alma mater was based around a single dwelling that the school’s Founders built upon to become the humungous manor that it now could claim to be.  </p>
<p>From all that I have read, Hogwart’s School for Witchcraft and Wizardry was always a castle.</p>
<p>Sitting upon the cold stone floor with a cat in my lap and my legs swinging over the ledge over several stories to the bottom way below me, I found myself actually missing the hardwood floors and more modern touches that Ilvermorny offered.  I wondered if other schools were so different from the two I had now inhabited?  I had heard rumors of the beauty of the palace that had been Beauxbaton’s Academy.</p>
<p>I shuddered at the thought of all that light and flowers.  The French had certainly missed the point of magic.</p>
<p>“Girl.” A guttural voice called from somewhere behind, breaking into my quiet.  Knowing my luck, it was meant for me.  I listened as the heavy footfalls drew closer.  “Answer me, girl.  What did you do?”</p>
<p>It must have been directed toward me since I now had a figure that loomed over me, casting a shadow that protected me from the feeble lighting that this area of the castle provided.  It briefly reminded me of home.  Why was I so nostalgic all of the sudden?</p>
<p>I looked into the grim face of Mister Filch.  It was surprising how terrifying the man could be, his eyes narrowed with a glint of murderous intent inside and his teeth barred as if ready to bite me.  He reminded me of Cousin Beast.</p>
<p>“Yes, Mister Filch?”</p>
<p>“Girl.”  He refused to acknowledge me by my name or by my soon to be position of Apprentice to this school.  I wondered at the cause of his ire.  “What did you do?”</p>
<p>I tried to understand the reason behind the caretaker’s obvious state of agitation, but for the life of me, nothing came to mind.  I opened my mouth to say that I was unaware of anything I might have done to warrant such treatment, but his eyes suddenly zoomed in on the unwanted intruder, his feline assistant, upon my person and he began yelling.</p>
<p>At me.</p>
<p>Again.</p>
<p>“Missus Norris!”  He screeched.  I thought my ears would burst from the pitch.  No man should reach such notes without a woman’s firm grip upon the necessary male anatomy.  “Let her go!  Do not hurt her!”</p>
<p>I was definitely confused now.  Hurt her?  The cat?  Why would anyone want to hurt such an animal?  And besides, everyone knew that felines were favored guides for those that dwelled within the darkness.  I needed those Below to seek vengeance upon me like I needed blonde highlights.</p>
<p>Not at all.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>His eyes were slightly crazed.  I wondered at the man’s sanity.  “Missus Norris.”  He pled.  “Don’t hurt my Missus Norris.”</p>
<p>I carefully lifted a now protesting cat from my legs and set her upon the floor next to me.  </p>
<p>“There.”  I said.  I tried to keep my voice reasonable.  “See?  All safe and sound.”</p>
<p>Before either of us could make any type of movement, the cat that was the center of our attention yowled at her master (though truthfully I wondered if Mister Filch was the submissive in the relationship) in apparent anger at having been disturbed and immediately jumped back into my arms.</p>
<p>I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the moment.  Missus Norris paid no mind to my wants (or his!) as she began turning and twisting around until she found what I could only guess was the perfect position upon my thighs and settled back down.  Shaking my head at the arrogance of such a creature, my eyes returned to those of the caretaker.  I enjoyed the dumbstruck look that he offered me.  A fair payment, I thought.</p>
<p>“Missus Norris?”  His tone offered the feelings of betrayal that the feline had forced on him.  The cat started licking her paw, ignoring him.</p>
<p>“Why don’t you have a seat?”  I offered the older man.  I felt it was the least I could offer since his companion refused to leave me.  “Sit.  We can talk about whatever I have done to upset you so.  I might even consider rectifying my error if you are nice.”</p>
<p>I watched as the indecision ran across his face.  He truly had no idea what to do.</p>
<p>“Sit.”  I ordered, adding a touch of Will into the single word.  The school’s caretaker finally sat next to me.  He was a respectable distance, but he could reach out to pet his cat if he wanted to.</p>
<p>And yes, that even sounded a bit dirty in my mind, too.</p>
<p>“See?  All good.”  I offered him a nod.  I was pleasantly surprised when he offered me one back.  “So, Mister Filch.  What seems to be the problem?”</p>
<p>I wanted to say that he frown at me, but that would have meant that there was a different look upon his face prior to my inquiry.  He had already been frowning, so I could only characterize the new expression as a deeper look of… something. Anger, maybe.  Or sadness?</p>
<p>“You went into my room.”  He finally offered.</p>
<p>“I did no such thing.”  I immediately retorted back at him.  The nerve of insinuating that I would enter his private chambers uninvited.  I hurt Family members that trespassed into my domain.  I could surely afford others the same courtesy, when warranted.  “Why would you say that?”</p>
<p>“I saw you.”  Mister Filch accused me, his voice certain.  “I watched you enter the corridor towards the east wall of the dungeons.  You went into my room and messed with my things.”</p>
<p>At his explanation of what he had witnessed, I realized that the man was not referring to his private quarters or bedchamber, but to the torture room I have found.  If, indeed, the room and its furnishings were his, then I had trespassed upon his property.  I looked down to see his cat… maybe his Familiar, glaring at me.  </p>
<p>“I apologize, Mister Filch.  I was unaware that the chamber in question was not simply a part of the school.”  I offered to the grizzled and angry Squib.  “I was only just so thrilled to see some things that reminded me of home.  I did spend quite some time in there.  I cannot say enough to convey my regrets to you for my heinous actions.”</p>
<p>He watched me.  I could only assume that no one had afforded him the respect he was due, his job one I would not take as my own no matter the pay offered.  I waited for his judgement.  Mister Filch finally nodded.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Miss Addams.”</p>
<p>“Oh, please.”  I nodded.  He did not rear back in horror, so I had to be getting better at it.  “Call me Wednesday.”</p>
<p>“I’m Argus.”</p>
<p>“Argus.”  I offered my hand for him to shake.  </p>
<p>After he clasped my hand within his, he seemed to relax.  I watched him carefully as he pulled out a wrinkled paper sack from his robe pocket.  The caretaker had a package of sweets and popped one of the bounty into his mouth.</p>
<p>“Want one?”  He offered me a smile full of broken and twisted teeth.  He reminded me of Uncle Fester at that moment.</p>
<p>I peered into the bag.  There was an odd assortment of candies, though no chocolate.  I did spy something I had read about and was willing to try.  I reached into the bag and pulled a Blood Pop out.</p>
<p>“Are these any good?”</p>
<p>At my question, he grunted.  “Never liked ‘em, me’self.”  He sniffed noisily before wiping his nose upon the sleeve of his stained robes.  “Makes me think ‘bout when me nose bleeds.  Same taste and all.  Not fer me.”</p>
<p>That sounded wonderful.  I quickly unwrapped my treat and popped it into my mouth.  Definitely blood.  I wondered if Aunt Ophelia had heard of them and if she would want to try them.  I made a mental note to order some the next opportunity I got.</p>
<p>Savoring my unexpected candy, I thought about how nice it was to maybe have a new friend.  An ally, at the very least.  I doubted much occurred within the castle that Argus Filch did not know about.  </p>
<p>“Why were the manacles so rusted?”</p>
<p>He started at me speaking.  I turned to arch an eyebrow at him and was rewarded when he blushed.  “Been meaning to clean ‘em.  Castle’s kin’da big, ya know.  Lotta work keep’n ‘er spotless.”</p>
<p>“Argus.”  I tried to not sound too condescending towards the man.  “Good tools need to be kept in proper working conditions.  Surely, you have not tried using that room on the students with things looking the way I found it, have you?”</p>
<p>“No one lets me play.”  He dropped his head.  “Headmistress and Headmasters before her all say that beatings needed to stop.”</p>
<p>I closed my eyes at his words.  Adults these days were all about spoiling the child.  Discipline had to be maintained.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.”  I offered what little comfort I could.  “You should not have to suffer the children to run amok.  A good lashing once usually gets the point across.  Never more than twice, if you’re lucky.”  I chucked.</p>
<p>His eyes were alight at my words and he offered a strange wheezing that I eventually understood to be his laughter.  “True.  Too true, that is.”</p>
<p>“Well, I only cleaned the manacles.”  I shuddered.  “The thought of those rusty irons flaking all over my skin.  Ugh.  No.”  I shook my head in the negative.  “Mother and Father say that tools and toys must be kept clean.  No one wants an unintended infection.”</p>
<p>“The magic of the school makes it hard t’clean.”</p>
<p>“Well then, I can help.”  I offered brightly.  A good side project or hobby might help with the day-to-day dealing with children here.  At the very least, I could examine some of them up close.  I was always wary of examining the ones in the adults’ bedrooms at home.</p>
<p>“Would you wanna try ‘em?”  He asked.  I tried to ignore the hopeful lustiness of his voice.  </p>
<p>I pulled the blood flavored (A positive, if I was not mistaken) sucker from my mouth as I considered how best to answer the man.  My possible new friend.  I did not want to alienate him after such a wonderful moment together.  Besides, who knew, I might just need him to help me out with my plans later.  I tried emulating Mother.</p>
<p>“A tempting offer, Argus, but that sort of thing I ought to save for my future husband, don’t you think?”</p>
<p>…ooo000OOO * OOO000ooo…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It had taken me nearly forty-five minutes to choose today’s outfit, but I wanted every advantage I could muster regarding today’s plan.  Even with magic, I had spent too much time making sure that my appearance was perfect.  I walked confidently into the Transfiguration Classroom for my meeting with Professor Dumbledore.  We had been missing each other all week, and I was getting slightly annoyed that one of the instructors that I specifically needed regarding the three masteries I required was playing hard to get.    </p>
<p>Upon entering, I was slightly taken aback to see the Grand Sorcerer enjoying a cup of hot tea with Headmistress McGonagall.  I hated to interrupt, as they seemed to be deep in discussion, but the witch’s eyes lit up upon seeing me enter the room.</p>
<p>“Miss Addams.  There you are.  Albus and I were just discussing you.  How fortuitous that you are here.”</p>
<p>I crooked a single eyebrow at Professor Dumbledore.  “Fortuitous?  I was under the impression that this was out scheduled meeting time.  My sincerest apologies for the error.  Was I incorrect, Professor?”</p>
<p>The only wizard in the room chuckled softly.  “Is it?  My, I do apologize, Miss Addams.  At my age, things seem to slip away faster and faster.  I do hope you will accept my own most humblest of apologies.”</p>
<p>I did not believe him for a moment, and from the calculating look on the Headmistress’ face, she was loathe to accept his excuse, as well.  Had she purposefully been here to keep him from escaping this meeting?  What exactly was going on here?</p>
<p>“No matter.”  He said, his tone full of mirth suddenly.  “How about a game to get us started?”</p>
<p>“A game?”  </p>
<p>He smiled at my question.  “Why, of course a game.  Children love games, do they not?  It will give us a chance to get to know one another and, while we are at it, allow me to test your skills in Transfiguration.  Sound like fun?”</p>
<p>Fun.  </p>
<p>Headmistress McGonagall stood after placing her teacup back on the table between the two teachers.  “That sounds like a wonderful idea, Albus.”  She offered me a small smile and placed her hand upon my shoulder in what I assumed was a show of support.  “Please leave the castle standing once you are done, hm?”</p>
<p>“Of course, Minerva.  All will be well.”  He offered.</p>
<p>We both watched as the elder witch left the room without a backwards glance at either of us.  I caught a hint that Headmistress McGonagall was humming a strange tune.  After the heavy wooden door closed, I turned to carefully study the man who was quite possibly the most powerful wizard in the world.  And the most dangerous.</p>
<p>“A game?”</p>
<p>He leaned back and drained his tea.  “Are you any good at a Wizards’ Transfiguration Duel?”</p>
<p>I wondered how much of my file from Ilvermorny the man had read.  It was a toss-up at either all of it or absolutely none of it.  While my alma mater was infamous for the wizarding duels that took place every other weekend, after the events of my Sixth Year lessons, none of the teachers allowed me to participate ever again.  </p>
<p>“I know the rules.”  I offered cryptically.</p>
<p>Professor Dumbledore just smiled.  “Excellent.  Then why don’t we start with a game?  I promise to take it easy on you.”</p>
<p>“Of course, sir.”</p>
<p>“And what’s a game with a small wager, hm?”  And there was the hook hidden inside the bait.  Aunt Hester had been correct at the wizard’s intentions regarding those around him.  I tried to understand what he might be searching for from me.</p>
<p>“A wager, sir?”</p>
<p>“Yes.  A small bet between colleagues.  Nothing too horrible, I assure you.”</p>
<p>“What kind of bet?”</p>
<p>He tapped his finger upon his lips, his eyes looking towards the ceiling as if in thought.  Not for one second did I believe that he did not already have a prize in mind.  “How about…”  The ancient wizard offered me a smile.  “A story.”</p>
<p>A story?  The Transfiguartion Master must require something from the past that either I or my Family had been involved in.  I silently debated which was the worse possibility.</p>
<p>“What story might that be, sir?”</p>
<p>“Well, if you win…”</p>
<p>“Unlikely, but thank you for the vote of confidence.”  I interjected while his eyes were twinkling like mad.</p>
<p>“Yes, yes.  If you win, how about the fabled thirteenth use for dragon’s blood?  I must say, it was an astonishing discovery.”  </p>
<p>Grandmamma would die I if turned down such an offer. A chance at something wizards and witches had theorized about for decades.  He dangled a prize that others would kill to possess, knowing none would refuse, but confident that its reveal was secure.  There was no way I could beat him and we both knew it.  I sighed aloud.</p>
<p>“And when you win?”</p>
<p>He nodded much as a grandfather might, I supposed.  I had never had a grandfather to compare, but it seemed like what I might expect it to be.  I did not trust the look at all.</p>
<p>“I heard Balthazar Blake quit teaching at Ilvermorny after one class with you.  I have heard in passing that he later admitted that you and he possibly being within close proximity of one another as his reason for leaving a position that he had held for nearly fifteen years.”</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>“I would very much like to know what occurred between the two of you.”</p>
<p>Trapped, just as I knew the moment he starting talking about a wager.  I really did not want to play this silly game.  At my silent nod of acceptance, Professor Dumbledore waved his wand (I tried to ignore that it was just suddenly in his hand) and transformed the table in front of him into a Transfiguration Game Board, which technically meant that a table was covered in sand and clay, the perfect building blocks for a Transfiguration Duel.</p>
<p>“Rules?”  I asked as I sat in the seat vacated by the Headmistress wishing that she had remained. Maybe with her here I could have argued against betting.  Headmistress McGonagall seemed to be a stickler for the rules.  I carefully pulled my own wand from its holster and manipulated some of the clay into a likeness of me.  My opponent did the same.</p>
<p>I was so going to lose.</p>
<p>“Right.  Rules.”  He spoke softly.  “Let’s stick with living creatures.  Single opponents only.  No need for grandiose layers of minions or armies, just yet.  Agreed?”</p>
<p>“Agreed.”</p>
<p>“And begin.”  He said.</p>
<p>I chose to take the offensive.  I hoped to get in a shot or two before he wiped my attacker off the board.  My clay figure transformed into a Florida alligator and attacked.</p>
<p>“Nicely done.  Good detail.”  He offered as his own miniature turned into a tortoise just as my reptile went to crush him between its jaws.  Actually, a snapping turtle, as the little shelled creature bit my alligator’s snout, forcing me to drop the little opponent.</p>
<p>I carefully studied his choice.  I could see the markings along the turtle’s shell, as well as the texture of its skin.  Losing was a foregone conclusion, but this might be more of a test regarding my abilities than about winning or losing.</p>
<p>My alligator’s form began to gain details.  I increased the size of its eyes and played with the ridges along its back and tail, all the while it chased after the slow moving turtle.  My attacker was still in the lead, but I watched as the wizard across from me changed his turtle into a rabbit.  I immediately directed my clay representation to bite the rabbit, but it escaped.  I was left with just its cottontail in my alligator’s mouth.</p>
<p>“A close one there.”  The Transfiguration Master laughed.  “I barely got away.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, sir.”</p>
<p>The Professor’s rabbit was faster and easily began outpacing my alligator on the sandy field, the arena transforming into a forest-like area.  That he changed the arena and avoided me was impressive.  I swished my wand and silently altered the alligator into a fox.  The hunt was on.  I watched as the rabbit ducked inside of a fallen log, my fox right on its tail.</p>
<p>Nothing seemed to happen for a few moments, when I caught sight of movement.  A caterpillar or worm was now crawling on the outside of the log.  Tricky.  I ignored how I could suddenly discern that his creation wore glasses just as he currently sported upon his own nose.</p>
<p>He was mocking me.</p>
<p>I transfigured my fox into a hen... every feather textured.  I could adapt just as easily.  His tiny legless prey seemed able to dodge most of my attacks, somehow, but I was ready to try for a win.  A longshot, sure, but there was always a chance.  The caterpillar was tossed into the air.  My hen was directly below and ready to swallow it whole.</p>
<p>I watched as the caterpillar transformed into a walrus with giant tusks.  I winced as my clay chicken was flattened.  Before Professor Dumbledore could claim victory, however, my wand was already moving – my chicken mutated into an elephant, ready to stomp the ocean faring walrus into the ground, though the Professor was already changing his creature’s form.</p>
<p>A mouse?  </p>
<p>Why a mou… oh.  I watched as my pachyderm silently freaked out over the tiny rodent and fled the scene.</p>
<p>How embarrassing.</p>
<p>I quickly altered my attacker into a cat, though it more likely resembled a kneazle.  I observed how quickly the natural predator and prey danced around one another.  I thought I had the tiny creature, when Professor Dumbledore manipulated it around behind my cat and moved to bite my cat’s tail.  I offered him a smirk before I transformed the clay feline into a large snake – a boa, based on its markings.</p>
<p>I nodded when the mouse fled.</p>
<p>Both of out clay creations disappeared from view into the sand covered ground.  When his spectacle-wearing rodent finally exited, my snake was close behind, but the Transfiguration Master changed his mouse into a crab and then attempted to behead my snake with its claw.  It had seemingly struck true, but I had enough mind to change the snake into a rhinoceros.  </p>
<p>“A fascinating choice.”  The wizard across from me offered with a smile.  He seemed so calm.  I could feel the strain of the continuous changes wearing at me.  The small of my back was slick with sweat.  I would definitely need a bath after this game.</p>
<p>“Thank you.”  I replied.</p>
<p>The playing board offered a tree next to a cliff.  It was surely a setup, but I was too far into the game to recognize it for what it was at the time.  I sent the rhino charging towards the tree, the crab perched on its horn.  The professor was obviously ready for the maneuver, since the crab was able to dodge its fate and my creature was stuck in the tree.</p>
<p>“That’s going to hurt.”  I said as Professor Dumbledore turned the crab into a goat and rammed the rhinoceros from behind, sending my miniature towards the floor.</p>
<p>Before the rhino struck the floor, I threw a lot more magic into the miniature than the rules strictly allowed, though the Professor had not specifically said it was against the rules.  I watched as the clay morphed into a dragon.  As it rose over the table’s edge, the Grand Sorcerer’s eyes widened slightly.  I nearly cackled with glee when my creation actually spat fire at his goat.  The dragon… a Chinese Fireball swooped down and grabbed it within its talons.  </p>
<p>I had won.</p>
<p>“My story?”  I asked impudently.</p>
<p>The Professor smirked at me as he indicated for me to continued watching the battle, the fun having not yet finished, apparently.  My miniature dragon landed on the table, its claws empty.  I scanned the board for any movement, when my faux dragon suddenly fell to the table.  I tried to get it to move, to continue the hunt for the Professor’s new creation, but it was down for the count.</p>
<p>Had I lost?  </p>
<p>How?</p>
<p>“Since you altered the rules of the game, I chose to follow your lead.”  </p>
<p>“How did I alter the game, sir?”</p>
<p>Professor Dumbledore twirled his wand.  “You left the board, but continued on.  Standard rules state that being removed from the table not under your own magic is a loss.”</p>
<p>“My apologies then.”</p>
<p>He offered me with a smile.  “No matter.  A good match, if I do say.  You kept going bigger and bigger, so I thought a smaller opponent might be the wiser course of action.”</p>
<p>“Smaller?”</p>
<p>“A germ.”  He offered as his explanation.  “Bacteria.  Which exact strain is inconsequential.  It is not necessarily within the rules, but as you altered them, I followed suit.  Needless to say, your little dragon there is severely sick.  Why, I would have to maybe prescribe a few days of rest with plenty of sunshine as the cure.  A fine game, though, Miss Addams.”</p>
<p>It was a near thing to not outwardly pout.  “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“Tea, perhaps?”</p>
<p>I nodded.  The table returned to its appearance from when I first entered the classroom.  He was really good at magic.  A fresh pot of team with cubes of sugar and fresh milk was suddenly before me.  I really wanted coffee.  Once we had both filled out cups and taken a sip, the Professor began to speak.</p>
<p>“You did remarkably well, Miss Addams.  Very creative.  Good improvisation.  The detail you added as the game continued was quite nice.  Your wand work was minimal and no vocalization.  You lasted about four minutes.”</p>
<p>“That was all?”  </p>
<p>He offered me a smile.  I tried to ignore the condensation it seemed to offer.  “Ignoring false modesty, I am the best at Transfiguration in the world, Miss Addams.  This was me testing you.  A master and an apprentice.  A student.  In truth, you lasted just under a minute before I knew how to defeat you.”</p>
<p>I tried to not let my disappointment show.  “A minute?”</p>
<p>“If I could not beat you after a minute, then you would need to seek another master.  I commend you on the minute.  I allowed the game to continue so that I might see where we should begin out lessons.”  Before I could speak, he held up his hand.  “Which we will discuss on Thursday.  Ten in the morning.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
<p>The Grand Sorcerer sipped again at his tea.  “I would like to hear the story, if you are able to offer it today.”</p>
<p>I wanted to say no.  The tale he wanted had been sought after by the Headmaster at Ilvermorny the moment Professor Blake had let the campus.  I had never seen the instructor so angry, but there was no way that I was going to explain what had happened in those few minutes between the last Disciple of the Seekers of the Prime Merlinean.  That I now had to offer the tale to Albus Dumbledore made me sick.</p>
<p>“I can, if you want it now.”</p>
<p>“Please.”</p>
<p>I knew that he wanted the story immediately.  There was always the possibility of me finding a way around offering up the forfeit.  He was not going to take any chances.</p>
<p>“It started the first day of classes during the Fifth Year.  Professor Balthazar Blake was to be the Advanced Martial Magic I instructor.  It was an elective that I was auditing, as I was trying to choose between it and another elective.”  I paused to sip at my tea.  The wizard across from me waited patiently.  “The presentation given was fairly straightforward.  He offered the goals of his class, as well as an explanation of the teaching style he subscribed to and how he expected the work to be divided among those attending.  </p>
<p>“To tell the truth, I had made up my mind to drop the class after five minutes of listening to him speak.  While interesting, it did not match my own personal view of the direction I wanted my magical education to go.”</p>
<p>“In what way?”  The Professor asked.</p>
<p>“I am not looking to be a warrior.  A fighter.  What some refer to as a War Mage.  That is not my path.  Martial Magics are about using magic to enhance the physical, as well as utilizing spell work from other classes in ways to defend and defeat an opponent.  That is not my desire at all.”</p>
<p>“Understandable.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.”  I swallowed the last of my tea.  The Professor noted that my cup was empty and kindly began making me another cup.</p>
<p>“Do you know the significance of his ring?”</p>
<p>“I do.”  Professor Dumbledore admitted after having to think about his answer.  </p>
<p>“Will you tell me?”</p>
<p>He peered at me over his half-moon glasses.  His gaze appraising.  “If Balthazar Blake did not reveal such to you, I am afraid that I cannot either.  There are some promises that cannot be broken, no matter the penalty of keeping such quiet.  I will only say that he has a reason for keeping that knowledge from getting out.  I do not necessarily agree with that reason, but it is not my place, as of yet, to disagree with him.”</p>
<p>I nodded.  “I had hoped to know.  Anyway, at the end of his lecture, I approached him to thank him for the chance to audit the class, but to excuse myself from future attendance.  He agreed, quite kindly, and offered me his hand to help me rise from my seat before his desk.”</p>
<p>“What happened?”  He asked.  </p>
<p>“His ring touched my hand.  I really did not know what was happening.  There was light and music filled my ears.  It was very confusing.  Professor Blake pushed me away.  Quite violently.  I struck the floor hard.  When I regained my bearings, he was against the far wall, wailing about the return of Maximus, I think.  He was mumbling, so I could be mistaken regarding the name.  Professor Blake also spoke of a curse from Veronica or something.  The failures of the prime lineage or something like that.”  I sipped at my tea.  He had made it sweet, which I detested but drank anyway.  “I tried to stand, but when I moved, he threw a spell at me.”</p>
<p>“He attacked you?”</p>
<p>I nodded.  “I woke up in the infirmary under the care of Doctor Silvana.  My parents were there and Professor Blake was three days gone.”</p>
<p>“And you never explained what happened?”</p>
<p>“I told my father and mother.”  I admitted.  “Father told me to remain quiet about the whole thing.  He reasoned that the Professor had a mental break and to reveal anything said might ruin the man’s reputation.”</p>
<p>“Your father might well have been right.”  Professor Dumbledore offered.  “Balthazar is a troubled wizard that has suffered great loss.  His quest is a foolhardy one, but he will not be persuaded to abandon it quite yet.”</p>
<p>“Do you know what he was talking about?”</p>
<p>The Grand Sorcerer offered only a smile in response to my question.  He finished his own tea before standing.</p>
<p>“Well, I feel today had been quite productive.  Don’t you?  I cannot wait to get started later this week.”</p>
<p>Understanding a dismissal when I hear one, I set my teacup back on its saucer and stood.  “It had been a most enjoyable meeting, sir.  I will see you on Thursday.”</p>
<p>“At ten, yes?”</p>
<p>“At ten.  Yes, sir.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Classes should start soon.  And it's time to meet the Boy-Who-Lived.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>CHAPTER SIX</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hermione Jean Granger.”  I mumbled.  “Gryffindor.  Twelve years old.  October Thirty-first, nineteen ninety-one.  I wonder if any relation to Gary and Becky.  Small world if she was.  Sad, too.”</p>
<p>Silently, I wondered if the girl’s fate might have been altered if I had attended Hogwart’s when the Hogwart’s Invitation had arrived... if it would have made any difference at all.  Would said Gryffindor still been inscribed upon the Lost Wall?  It seemed such a waste, almost; that so many students had perished… lost their very lives, all in the pursuit of a magical education.  The hubris that wasted life could so callously be disregarded.  Their endings should have meaning.  Death was not so greedy as that in my own opinion.</p>
<p>What had Miss Granger’s parents thought after learning that sending their child off to Hogwart’s School had directly lead to her death, possibly all alone and afraid?  </p>
<p>How had she died?  </p>
<p>What catastrophe led to the witch’s final fate?</p>
<p>Would we have been friends?</p>
<p>I reflected on whether I would have cared that she died if I had been attending Hogwart’s.  Probably not, but then again, maybe this Granger girl would have been an exception to the rule.  Maybe she was the type to accept those different.  The kooky and the strange.</p>
<p>Moving on to the next name that followed, I read Sally Anne Perks.  A Hufflepuff that was also twelve year old this time.  And after hers were several more names, none of which meant anything to me.  None of them did.</p>
<p>At least no students had died so far this term.</p>
<p>“Ahem.”  A voice politely sounded from behind where I was perusing the Lost Wall.  Turning towards the direction of the cough, I nodded towards where the Seventh Year Slytherin and current Head Girl, Astoria Greengrass, waited patiently.  The dinner hour had long passed.  Why was she out and about?</p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p>“My apologies, Teacher Addams.”  The Headmistress decided that the Junior Professors were to be addressed with ‘teacher’ in front of their surnames.  I had fought to be called by my first name, but the Professors had all overruled me.  Each had a different reasoning, but it all came down to the need to disassociate the students from the instructors, especially since the Junior Professors were so close in age to the Seventh Year students.  They feared romance, possibly.  That Draco’s father was negotiating with the Head Girl’s family regarding a marriage contract notwithstanding.</p>
<p>“It’s not a problem, Miss Greengrass.  How can I help you?”</p>
<p>“Professor Dumbledore is requesting your presence in the Transfiguration Classroom at your earliest convenience.”  The young Pureblood witch answered promptly.</p>
<p>“Thank you.”  When the student did not immediately leave, I spoke again.  “Was there anything else you needed?  I do not require a guide.”</p>
<p>“Ma’am, I was wondering if you could explain what you did on the Hogwart’s Express.”</p>
<p>“Could you be a bit more specific, Miss Greengrass?  There was a lot happening on the train ride to the school last week.”</p>
<p>“Of course, Teacher Addams.  I wanted to know how you were able to Petrify all six students without your wand.”  She took a breath.  “I don’t think I heard an Incantation, either.”</p>
<p>“Ah.”</p>
<p>My memories took me back to Wednesday (Ha!) last when Draco Malfoy and I had been informed that we had been drafted to assist Professors Slughorn and Evans on the Hogwart’s Express.  Apparently, it was tradition for instructors to ride along in case of dire emergencies.  In addition, it would give the Junior Professor and myself the opportunity to familiarize themselves with the current Head Girl and Boy, as well as the various House Prefects.  Luckily enough, it also had provided the perfect opportunity and chance to meet up with the Family at Platform Nine and Three Quarters.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>…ooo000OOO * OOO000ooo…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The aristocratic featured teen standing next to me widened his gaze comically upon catching the first glimpse of the Family.  It was almost as enjoyable as when Joel Glicker was invited to visit my home to celebrate Aunt Debbie’s demise.  I sometimes missed the poor boy.  His elimination was the first time I truly understood how emotions (rather than the usual power tools) could be used to hurt and cause real, lasting pain.</p>
<p>“Merlin.”  Draco spoke softly, as if speaking any louder might draw unwanted attention his way.  “That’s your family?”</p>
<p>I nodded in the affirmative.  “They are.”</p>
<p>“I see the resemblance, sort of, but what is that?”  He gestured to the seven-foot giant that was currently carrying all of the luggage most likely belonging to her younger brother.</p>
<p>“You mean Lurch?”</p>
<p>“Lurch?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”  I led the Malfoy Heir to the wide space that surrounded my family.  None of the other wizards or witches seemed to dare drawing near to the odd people.  “He’s been the Addams Family manservant for ages.  I think Father inherited him from Grandfather back in the sixties.  Maybe the seventies.”</p>
<p>“What is it?”</p>
<p>I shrugged.  “That’s rude.  He’s just Lurch.”</p>
<p>We drew close enough through the throngs of youngsters all attempting to escape the emotional goodbyes, as well as calls of “farewell” and “be good” and “don’t forget to owl home” to catch the attention of Father.  The rest of the Family, excluding Pugsley (who seemed to be absent), soon followed Father’s direction.</p>
<p>“Wednesday!  There you are!”  Gomez Addams called over the crowd.  “Smashing.  I was hoping to see you as we let our littlest monster off.  I’ve missed your presence at the dinner table.  No one has tried poisoning me in weeks.  I miss our father-daughter time.  How long can you stay and chat?”</p>
<p>“Not long, Father.”</p>
<p>“How rude.”  The Head of the Addams Family remarked.  “Keeping children away from their parents.  How can the Family know that you are being treated properly?  Are they beating you?  Torture?  Tell me that you are showing them what being an Addams means.  Surely, there is a solid reason for this forced separation.  So painful.  Are you collecting your tears for Aunt Dementia?”</p>
<p>It was a close thing to hold in the sigh that threatened to escape.  “It’s like Ilvermorny, Father.  It is just classes and learning magic.  You’re not missing anything.”</p>
<p>“Be respectful, dear.”  Mother spoke softly.  “Your father only wants to make sure that you are being cared for.”  The beautifully seductive witch turned her gaze to the wizard standing next to me. Poor Draco!   “And manners, darling.  You have not introduced us to your escort yet.”</p>
<p>“You work quick.”  Grandmamma cackled.  “A bit scrawny, though.  Why do you keep stealing the little ones?  The bigger ones offer so many more choices.  Better fat for the stew.”</p>
<p>I ignored Grandmamma.  “Of course, Mother.  I have the honor of intruding you to the Malfoy Family Heir, Draco Lucius.  His father is Lord Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, the current Chief Warlock to the British Wizengamot.”  I inclined my head to the Junior Professor.  “Draco, these are my parents.  Gomez and Morticia Addams.”</p>
<p>Draco’s apparent upbringing seemed to snap him out of his nervousness.  I watched as he took Mother’s hand and offered a bow and air-kissed her right hand.  “A very distinct pleasure, Missus Addams.”  After he straightened, he looked her Father directly in the eyes.  “Sir.”</p>
<p>Gomez seemed fascinated, while Mother merely quirked an eyebrow.  Father’s smile widened and he immediately offered his hand for a handshake and began asking question after question about Hogwart’s.  I would have attempted to be included into the conversation, but Pubert decided that right then was the best opportunity to pounce.</p>
<p>“A boyfriend?  Already?  You’re a bit of a slut to get one so quick.”</p>
<p>“No, you little jerk.”  I rolled her eyes as the eleven year old.  “I’m here to become a Sorceress.  I am not looking to acquire a suiter, much less find a new bedmate.”</p>
<p>The miniature Gomez clone laughed.  “Liar.  I heard from Cousins Dexter and Donald that the Family is expecting you to come home engaged.  Aunt Hester was talking about pulling down the crib and everything.  Lumpy confirmed it.”</p>
<p>“Why were you talking to them?  And what would they know about me anyway?”  I groaned at the mental image of me with a child in my arms.  “Besides, where will you sleep if they’re giving me the crib, huh?”</p>
<p>“You were a big part of the conversation at my going away party.”  He grinned evilly, ignoring the taunt.  “Too bad you didn’t get one, isn’t it?  Guess you’re not the favorite anymore.”</p>
<p>“Get on the train, Pubbie.”  </p>
<p>“Whatever.  You’re still a slut.”  He repeated.  The First Year motioned for Lurch to follow him as he followed my order and made his way towards the locomotive.  </p>
<p>I really wished Mother had swallowed.</p>
<p>My siblings had been referring to me as a slut for a while now.  I wondered if it had anything to do with my transition into a female that spurred the two of them on to say such.  It never really came up while I still had the male appendage between my legs.  Did a penis really make that much of a difference?  I looked basically the same then as I do now.  Of course, there are a few cosmetic changes, but outside of seeing me unclothed, reactions from both boys and girls towards me are the same.  Only those people I had sex with would know the difference, and I had no plans on resurrecting the dead for a repeat performance.</p>
<p>Maybe I would give it further thought later.</p>
<p>I returned my attention over to where Father was apparently finally finished interrogating Draco.  The Malfoy Heir was holding four cigars in his hand, obviously a gift from Father, while his gaze was directed at her.  A plea for an immediate escape was plainly visible.  I decided to be merciful, just this once.  Draco would owe me.</p>
<p>“Father.  Draco needs to check with the Prefects on the train.”  I nodded towards Draco.  “If you can give me a moment to say goodbye to my family?”</p>
<p>“Of course.”  He moved so quickly that it was almost like Apparation.  “A distinct honor, Mister Addams.  Missus Addams.”</p>
<p>After waiting for him to get a safe distance away, I turned back to the Family.  “I’ve not much time to go into great detail, but suffice it to say, things here are stranger than expected.”</p>
<p>“How so?”  Father inquired.</p>
<p>Mindful of the clock, I relayed everything that had been learned regarding Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, their respective families, as well as much of the shenanigans that had taken place at Hogwart’s School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.  I hated that much of the details had to be skipped over, due to time constraints, but I was sure that the Family would investigate further.  Once finished, my parents shared a look.  </p>
<p>“Do they know about Harry Potter?  That he’s dead?”  Mother was the one to respond.</p>
<p>“I don’t think so.”  I admitted.  “He’s referred to as the Boy-Who-Vanished over here.”</p>
<p>Mother quirked her lips, her dark eyes narrowed as she turned to her husband.  “Gomez, this is unacceptable.  Why were we not informed about this?”</p>
<p>Father was visibly upset, as well.  “I do not know, my love, but I assure you that I will find out.”  He turned his brown eyes towards me.  “Do I need to bring you home?  Pubert?”</p>
<p>“No.”  Was my immediate response.  Looking around, the platform was nearly empty.  “I promise I’ll watch over your little mistake, but we should be fine.”</p>
<p>“We will trust you on this, my dear.”  Morticia offered.  “We will also learn what more we can.  You will inform us of anything else you discover.  Yes?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Mother.”</p>
<p>“Good.”</p>
<p>I took a few moments to give a few parting words and offers of goodbye to the Family.  Once done, I made way into the train.  It took a few moments to make it through the crowded corridor to reach the magically expanded front car of the Hogwart’s Express.  My lips turned slightly downwards upon discovering that I was the last to arrive… and that the only seat available was between Professor Evans who seemed just as upset at the only vacancy and the Fifth Year Hufflepuff Prefect, who I learned was named Maud Spellbody.  </p>
<p>What strange names…</p>
<p>Once the train was on its way, Professor Slughorn took charge and quickly introduced the Head Boy and Head Girl to the assembled students and instructors, as well as offered an advance explanation of the role the Junior Professors would play in the upcoming school year.  He then handed out assignments during for ride, before finally shooing everyone else out of the car so that he had time to prepare for an ‘invitation only’ meal.  That neither Draco nor I was on said list was a very pleasant discovery.  Having shared a few meals with the Potions Master, any escape or exclusion I considered a stroke of luck.</p>
<p>I followed the former Hogwart’s student to a cabin that held with several young teens in robes trimmed in green.  I remained silent for the most part, watching Draco interact with his former Housemates, almost all of them already knowing the good-looking Junior Professor.</p>
<p>Good looking?</p>
<p>Why had Pubert insinuated that I was here to find a husband?  </p>
<p>A waste of time.</p>
<p>The train ride was really somewhat boring.  I considered the idea that riding towards a new school as a First Year might lend towards some mystery and possible adventure, while later years would enjoy seeing friends and fellow classmates again, but from an outside perspective... not really a fun trip.  I idly speculated that my younger brother might be better inclined to feel included.  Maybe.  There was a chance, at least.</p>
<p>“What in Merlin’s name?”  Draco stood suddenly.  </p>
<p>I rose from the bench, as well.  “Is something wrong?”</p>
<p>He nodded silently at the question, his wand held tightly within his right hand.  The rest of the compartment fell silent, watching as the two of us made way over towards the door.  Now that I was paying attention, I could hear raised voices coming from the hallway.  At his arched eyebrow, I nodded for Draco to open the door.  Truth be told, I was not really sure what we expected to find on the other side of the door.  Sure, there had been loud voices that lent to the idea of an argument, but really, these were schoolchildren.  It was probably the usual type of prepubescent drama that I had witnessed at Ilvermorny:  fighting about who was dating their ex… or maybe someone had been caught in a lie.  Something along those lines.  I doubted that trouble of a serious sort would not start before the actual term had begun.</p>
<p>I was wrong, however.  </p>
<p>The hallway was in chaos.  Apparently, the train’s cabins were equipped with sound dampening Charms because the noise that we walked into was a thousand times louder than while the door had been closed.  Since my companion turned immediately to the right, I made way towards the left.  Deciding to trust the Defense Junior Professor at my back, I immediately sought to understand what I was seeing before me.</p>
<p>Spell marks marred the wood paneling along the corridor, which provided certain proof that this was more than the usual kiddie fight… at least, I hoped that was the truth, otherwise my time trying to become a Sorceress was going to be more hazardous than I had considered.  Maybe I should have listened to Penelope’s warnings a little more carefully.  Continuing my observations, there were students of various ages down on the floor, while others were peeking their heads through doorways.  Spectators possibly rather than participants.</p>
<p>There were two standing.  The first, a female approximately fifteen years of age, had her wand drawn and seemed to be standing in a protective position.  Directly behind her, from what could be discerned, was a smaller boy with similar features and coloring.  A sibling, perhaps.  Both looked angry and ready to continue whatever had been happening mere moments previous.  </p>
<p>There was raised voices coming from behind her.  Draco was yelling at someone to lower his or her wand and to shut up.  I desperately wanted to check and see what he was having to deal with, but knew that I had my own potential combatant to deal with.  Malfoy was on his own until reinforcements arrived.</p>
<p>“Who are you?”  The student asked.  I noted that a few other students in robes trimmed in the same blue trim as the girl speaking were feeling brave. </p>
<p>“Put down your wand.”  I ordered instead of answering.  “Now.”  My opponent apparently thought she had the upper hand since my own wand had not yet been drawn, but there was no need to exasperate the situation any further.  Besides, I did not need a magical focus to deal with this child.  “Don’t make me tell you again.”</p>
<p>Apparently, the witch facing me thought her chances better than average.  Her hand gripping the wand began to move, as did those of her Housemates that were now going to be involved.  I struck before any of the wooden sticks could travel further than a millimeter.  Holding out my hand, I smirked as the girl’s weapon was ripped from her grasp and flew into mine.  The other wands I let fall behind her.</p>
<p>“Thank you.”  I put the other witch’s wand in the inner pocket of my cloak.  The now unarmed students all seemed flummoxed at what to do next.</p>
<p>“How did…?”  The younger witch sputtered.  “Give that back!”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>Any further whining was momentarily ignored as I turned to check on how Draco was faring.  A quick glance over the shoulder showed him standing over three male students, each of them current bound in Conjured ropes.  He had his situation under control, leaving me to deal with this side of the apparent duel.</p>
<p>The girl was approaching with violence in her gaze – her compatriots close behind.  I held my palm up towards the students.  I smiled as the six children froze immediately in place – only their eyes slight widening giving a clue that they all now realized that they were severely outclassed.  A proper lesson to learn.</p>
<p>“Petunia?”  The younger possible sibling spoke, giving me a name to go with the troublemaker.  “Are you okay?”  Since he had not shown any aggressive behavior, he had not been frozen.</p>
<p>“She is fine.”  I offered the young boy.  “I do require an immediate explanation as to what is happening here.  I am fairly sure that the no dueling in the hallways at Hogwart’s is also extended to the train, yes?”</p>
<p>“It is.”  Professor Evans was making her way towards where I was about to begin interrogating the two.  It seemed I would not get the chance.  “Petunia Alice Potter.”  She began.  “Fleamont Charlus Potter!  What in the world is going on here?”</p>
<p>The Professor’s son appeared shame faced and completely apologetic.  The daughter might have, but she was still under my Petrification Hex.  All of the frozen students would be questioned.  They wouldn’t be doing much of anything until the spell was released.</p>
<p>“Davidson started it, Mum!” The student now identified as Fleamont (Really!  Who comes up with theses names!?!) immediately began passing blame to the classmates Draco was obviously dealing with.  “He said that Dad was going to challenge whether he was my real father or not.”</p>
<p>“I do not care.”  His mother interrupted the excuse.  “You are your father’s son.  A fact that I know for certain is true.  I do not care what Elspeth Macmillan wants for her son.  You are James Potter’s eldest son.  You are the Heir Apparent, not your half-brother.”</p>
<p>“She’s the Lady Potter now.”  A random student spoke up.  Not the brightest idea when everyone could plainly see that Lily Evans was beyond mad.</p>
<p>“Back to your cabins.  Now!”</p>
<p>I chose to release the Potter girl and her allies so that she could face the parental scolding and they could all receive the punishment that was sure to be coming.  Petunia Potter might have thought to continue with her earlier intention, but I mockingly retrieved the student’s wand and raised a single eyebrow.  The girl’s entire posture slumped as she turned to face her mother.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>…ooo000OOO * OOO000ooo…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I asked Professor Dumont about it.  She said I must have been mistaken, but I know what I witnessed.”  Miss Greengrass’ insistence pulled my attention back to the present.  “She threated to take Points if I continued to make up tales.  You did it, right?  You must have.”</p>
<p>“Walk with me.”  I began walking towards the Transfiguration Classroom.  There was no need to bother to check to see if the Head Girl was following.  I knew that the student would.  As we swiftly turned the corner and moved towards one of the moving staircases, I considered my words carefully.  “What you witnessed was, indeed, both silent and wandless casting.”</p>
<p>“I knew it.”</p>
<p>“You did.  Congratulations.”  I deadpanned.  “I was under the impression that silent casting was taught in Sixth Year.  Professor Snape is a competent teacher.  Is this not correct?”  I caught the hint of a blush on the younger girl’s cheeks.  Most likely would have missed it had it not been for the fact that the girl was so fair-skinned… almost more than I was.</p>
<p>“It was.  Yes, ma’am.”</p>
<p>“Which immediately leads to the next question: why are you making such a big deal out of it?”  I waited patiently.  </p>
<p>“I was top of Sixth Year.  My plan is to be top of this year.  I’m aiming for Ten N.E.W.T.’s.”</p>
<p>“Wonderful for you.”  I answered as we both began their upwards climb.  “So what?”</p>
<p>“So…” Astoria paused to take a deep breath.  “You’re what?  Twenty?  Twenty-one?”</p>
<p>“I’m nineteen, actually.  My birthday was just a few months ago.”</p>
<p>“See!  That’s ridiculous!”  The student became quite emotional.  “I was one of the best in Defense last year.  Second in the Class.  Full marks from Professor Snape.”</p>
<p>“I fail to see the point to this.”</p>
<p>“Fail to…?  Argh!  Really?”</p>
<p>I paused when we reached the top of the stairs.  “Miss Greengrass.  You need to watch yourself.  I am trying to understand how I can help you.  To answer your questions, but if you continue as you are, especially with that tone towards me, I will either recommend the loss of Points or a Detention with your Head of House.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”</p>
<p>“As you’ve already said.  What do you not understand?”</p>
<p>“How did you do it?  I get the silent casting, sort of, but even then, you used magic closer to what Professor Dumbledore does than anybody else.  You did it wandlessly, too.  I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone doing that, much less to actually see it happen.”</p>
<p>I stopped the trek to Professor Dumbledore.  Taking a moment to examine our surroundings, I led the her into an empty and currently unused classroom.  I made sure to shut the door behind us.</p>
<p>“Miss Greengrass.  I assume that the Classifications of Magic are taught here?”</p>
<p>I watched the Head Girl.  “You mean like Singularity and Ritualistic magic?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”  I answered.  “Do you understand the reasoning for the Classifications?”</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am.  While magic can be divided into different Crafts or Arts for proper study, every aspect of magic can actually be explained as being a combination of the two Classifications.”</p>
<p>“Partly.”  I corrected.  “In truth, there are more than just the two.”  I held a hand up to forestall the obvious questions that such a statement would cause.  “Yes.  The magic that is taught the world over is a direct combination of Singularity and Ritualistic teachings.  Wizards and witches have a natural aptitude to connecting with their chi… inner core… or whatever else a magic user wants to call it.  That is the Singularity.  </p>
<p>“The actual use of words, movements and spell components such as Potion ingredients to achieve a desired result that usually conflicts directly with the natural world?  That is the Ritualistic part.  Allowing someone that can manipulate their Singularity in conjunction with proven Rituals and adding in a focus such as your wand and, presto, you get magic. ”</p>
<p>“With respect, I already know this.”  The Slytherin Seventh Year protested… her voice and attitude not very respectful.</p>
<p>“Great.  Good for you.”  I held back as much snark as possible.  “How does a witch or wizard get around that?”</p>
<p>“You can’t.”</p>
<p>“You can.”  I retorted.  “I did.  You witnessed it, did you not?”</p>
<p>“How?”</p>
<p>“I used the Divine.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>…ooo000OOO * OOO000ooo…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My apologies on my lack of promptness, Professor.”  I offered as soon as I entered the Transfiguration Classroom.  “I was involved in a most tiresome conversation with a student and removing myself was a bit more difficult than I had anticipated.”</p>
<p>Explaining as simply as possible to Astoria Greengrass that there were areas of magic available to be learned that were not regularly taught at Hogwart’s was difficult enough and a colossal waste of my valuable time.  That I was not going to offer to personally instruct the Head Girl with how to spoon-feed her a way to access the Divine… well, that had caused the student to have a near catastrophic meltdown.  I only escaped by reminding the Slytherin that the Transfiguration Professor had summoned me.</p>
<p>Looking around the room and seeing the wizards and witches that had been assembled, I realized that it was apparently time for the recruitment speech.  I had estimated that it would be well after their Halloween celebration before an introduction would be put forth.  The Order of the Phoenix, if I had guessed right.  Father would be so pleased.</p>
<p>Mother, not so much.</p>
<p>“Of course, Miss Addams.”  The Grand Sorcerer offered a grandfatherly smile.  “I appreciate your coming as quickly as you have.  Please.  Sit.  Join us.”</p>
<p>Immediately to the right were several older wizards and witches.  None immediately stood out as particularly impressive, and they were not important enough for recognition on sight alone.  The witch with startling pink hair was different, however.  I ignored the fact that Lord Potter was there.  He was easy to spot since he looked like what I assumed Harry Potter might have been after he had grown older.  The glasses were nice though.  Very distinguished.</p>
<p>As my gaze traveled further at those in attendance, there were a few professors of note, Lily Evans included.  Great.  She and her former husband in the same room.  That the groundskeeper, Rebus Hagrid, was here was a bit of a surprise… though seeing anyone taller and wider than Lurch should be a shock to everyone.</p>
<p>Forcing myself to finish the circle of the room, there were a lot more younger members than expected… most appeared to be around my age – maybe only a year or two difference.  Maybe a bit older.  The obvious point of focus was the wizard sitting in the middle of this group:  Neville Longbottom, the Boy-Who-Lived.  </p>
<p>I still thought that referring to the scar that ran across his left cheek as the prophesized mark a bit foolish.  It did seem a bit more than a normal sealed wound.  </p>
<p>Could it be cursed?	</p>
<p>All told, if this was the Order, they numbered maybe thirty, in all.  Fairly disappointing.  Fifty Family members would easily attend a last minute gathering at home.  I shuddered to consider something planned well in advance.</p>
<p>After offering a respectful nod, I chose a seat directly in front of where Professor Dumbledore sat behind his desk… a king upon his throne with his court in attendance.  Every eye was upon me.  It made me glad that I was dressed more appropriately than my usual black on black.  Penelope had all but insisted that I spruce up my look with some color.  Today had been orange.  She had not been amused.  If it had not been that I was properly attired, as well as a point of curiosity almost the entirety of my life already, their stares would have made me nervous.  </p>
<p>Not so much now.</p>
<p>“How can I be of assistance, Professor?”</p>
<p>“I wanted to introduce you to a few former students of mine.  Some closer to your age.”  The long-bearded wizard steepled his fingers in front of him.  “I’ve seen how well you are getting along with the other Junior Professors and thought that a few more to offer some variety might be appreciated.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Professor, but that was unnecessary.  Between dividing my time helping the faculty here and trying to focus on my studies, I barely have time to socialize with the few I’ve met already.”</p>
<p>“You are doing marvelously, Miss Addams.  In just the two weeks that classes have been going on, I’ve heard nothing except top marks from students and the other teachers.”  He peered over his glasses.  “Surely you can take a moment to at least be introduced to a few that are here to meet with you?”</p>
<p>“Of course.”  I offered back.  I really did have a full plate in front of me, but if the Grand Sorcerer was going to throw his precious maybe Chosen One into my lap, who was I to not take advantage of the situation?</p>
<p>Once spoken, the room seemed to relax.  To my right, I noted that the teachers in attendance all began a conversation among themselves, which seemed to oppose directly how the other side of the room coupled off in twos or threes to talk in secret.  I pulled at an earring, the magic activating, allowing me to listen in.</p>
<p>“Come on, Prongs.  You know that Lil would nev…”</p>
<p>“He was born over nine months after we split, Pad.  Elspeth has every right to want confirmation of paternity.  To want the best for our son.”  Lord Potter interrupted the other wizard.</p>
<p>“You’re going about this all wrong.  When it comes back that you’re Monty’s dad, Lily can petition for familial protections.  Against you and your wife.  You can be barred from being in his life.  Do you want to lose another son?”</p>
<p>“Don’t you dare!”  Lord Potter spat.  “Never say som…”  Any further observations was hindered when the first of the younger attendees approached.  Wednesday cut the eavesdropping charm.</p>
<p>“Hi.”  A cute brown-haired teenager sat down next to where I was sitting.  “I’m Susan.  Susan Bones.”</p>
<p>“Hello, Susan Bones.”  I shook hands with the witch when she offered her hand.  “A pleasure.”</p>
<p>“Likewise.  I like your accent.  American?”</p>
<p>I nodded.  “I am.”</p>
<p>“How do you like Scotland?”</p>
<p>“Other than Hogwart’s, I’ve not really been anywhere else.”</p>
<p>“Really?  I thought you got here during the summer.”</p>
<p>“I did.”  A few of the other females drew closer to listen.  “I am not sure if you are aware, but I’m attempting the Sorceress Challenge.”  When Susan and some of the others all nodded, I continued with an explanation.  “I’m already close to an Arithmancy Mastery.  Once I have that, I’m off to step two.”</p>
<p>“So, you’re like a Ravenclaw.”  Neville Longbottom spoke up.</p>
<p>“I was a Thunderbird at Ilvermorny.  I guess you might liken that House with your Gryffindor House.  We prided ourselves for our search for adventure.  My younger brother was, however, sorted into Ravenclaw.”  I kept the humor out of my voice.  The Sorting Hat had not reacted very well when placed on Pubert’s head.  The Hat had screamed Ravenclaw almost immediately, apparently wanting as little physical contact as possible.  </p>
<p>I knew the feeling.</p>
<p>“You don’t sound much like a Gryffindor.”  The Boy-Who-Lived argued back.</p>
<p>Before I could answer, a dark skinned girl slapped Neville on the back on his head.  “And what exactly is wrong with Ravenclaw?”</p>
<p>“Aw, come on, Padma.  You know I love you.  They’re just always with their noses in books.  Why not have some fun, you know?  Life isn’t lived in books.”</p>
<p>The girl sniffed loudly and crossed her arms.  “I understand better why my sister dumped you in Fifth Year.”</p>
<p>“Hey, now!”  Neville blushed slightly, his eyes darkening.  “It was a mutual break-up.”</p>
<p>The witch ignored the boy’s protests and offered her hand to me.  “I’m Padma Patel and I am a Ravenclaw.  Or was.  It’s nice to meet you, Miss Addams.”</p>
<p>“Oh, no.”  I shook her head.  “Please no more Misses and Misters.  I’m Wednesday.”</p>
<p>Susan chuckled softly.  “Susan, then.  How did you get a name like that?  Wednesday?  It’s a day of the week.”</p>
<p>“True, but for my family, it’s almost tradition to be named something different.”</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>“I, at least, was able to choose my name upon my family’s Naming Day.  I had very little choice on my middle name.”  At Susan’s look, I shrugged my shoulder.  “The Ritual required that I take the one that was presented to me.”</p>
<p>“What was it?”  Padma asked.</p>
<p>“You’re so nosey.” Susan interrupted before I could answer.</p>
<p>“It’s not like her family names their children after constellations.” Neville added.  They all seemed to share a look that hinted at a private joke.</p>
<p>“Okay.  Okay.  Sorry.”  Padma laughed.  “I wasn’t meaning to say Wednesday was a bad name.  No offense.”</p>
<p>“None taken.”  I answered dryly.  “And my middle name is Henrietta.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.  I think I’d stick with Wednesday, too.”  Neville replied.</p>
<p>“So, you’re going to be a Sorceress, huh?”  Another dark-haired wizard approached.  He seemed to favor the wizard speaking to Lord Potter.  A son, perhaps?  A short redheaded witch following along beside him, their hands firmly clasped together, accompanied him.  </p>
<p>“That is my desire.”</p>
<p>“I couldn’t do more school.  Seven years was plenty for me.”  He offered.  “I’m Remy.  Black.”</p>
<p>“Heir Black, I presume.”</p>
<p>“You know about that stuff?”  The now identified future Lord of the Black Family shrugged his shoulders.  “I didn’t think you Yanks went for that kinda thing.”</p>
<p>I tilted my head.  “We don’t, but the Addams is a Most Feared and Most Ancient Family, though polite company rarely mentions the ‘Feared’ part.  We try to keep up with the politics of the places we do business.”</p>
<p>“Your family does business here?”</p>
<p>“Not for a few decades, I believe.”  I answered honestly.  “Though with me accepting the Hogwart’s Apprenticeship and my younger brother choosing to attend the school, I think Father might consider a business opportunity or two if the right one comes about.”</p>
<p>“Really?”  Professor Dumbledore offered from where he was sitting.  Several important looking wizards and witches close by seemed interested in me again.  “I had not thought that your family would be interested, especially considering the reason for their leaving previously.”</p>
<p>“You are referring to their support of Grindelwald, I presume?”</p>
<p>At the question, several of those within the room spoke up all at once, each trying to speak loudly over the din of voices that come from almost everywhere.  It took a moment, but a tall wizard with fair features seemed to win the chance to be heard first.</p>
<p>“Albus.”  His voice was thick and heavy.  “Surely you jest.  You cannot possibly be considering a Family with obvious and known ties to a previous Dark Lord.  We have enough on our plates dealing with the one we currently have to deal with, Ministry holding cell or not.”</p>
<p>“Frank, please.”  A shorter witch standing next to him tried to stop him.</p>
<p>Frank?  It was a fair assumption that the wizard acting as mouthpiece to the room was most likely Lord Frank Longbottom, father of the Boy-Who-Lived.  A flick of my pale green eyes at where his son was still standing was proof enough that I had guessed correctly.  Neville seemed almost embarrassed at his father’s outburst.</p>
<p>Interesting.</p>
<p>“No, Alice.”  Lord Longbottom refused his companion’s offer of comfort… Alice had to be Lady Alice Longbottom, mother to young Neville here.  “We’ve had to put up with a lot over the years.  Riddle finding every loophole and legal precedent to weasel his way out of being executed outright, I won’t sit here and give the Dark another piece to put back onto the board.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think that Miss Addams is the horror that you assume her to be, Frank.”  The former Supreme Mugwump spoke softly, though I could hear the steel in his tone.  “We should be looking for allies, not accusing anyone new of being an enemy.  She is just a young witch here to learn, just as Neville here is.”</p>
<p>“Albus…”</p>
<p>That the Lord Longbottom was already pleading was confirmation enough that he had lost the argument… and with his failure, the rest of the adults within the room followed along with the conflict’s decision.  I hated that the victory had been dependent upon the Professor’s assurance that I was a simple little girl here to learn and not the up-and-coming Dark Witch and Thamaturgical Sorceress that I felt was my rightful destiny.</p>
<p>“What sort of opportunities is Gomez Addams seeking?”  The wizard who had been arguing with Lord Potter earlier asked, his features dark and alluring.</p>
<p>I shrugged.  “Father is a lawyer.  He’d probably love the chance to lose cases here in Great Britain.”</p>
<p>“Lose?”  The unnamed wizard asked.  “He actively tries to lose?”</p>
<p>That made me almost chuckle under my breath.  “My father graduated Summa Cum Laude from Miskatonic University before graduating law school in the top five percent of his class.  His test scores were nearly flawless.  Unfortunately, Father was also voted to be the most likely to lose every case he tried… a title he has almost perfectly lived up to.”</p>
<p>“Almost?”  Professor Dumont asked.</p>
<p>Nodding, I continued.  “He takes the most impossible cases.  If it is considered unwinnable, you can rest assured that Father will be the one to take up the challenge.  There has never been a client he would refuse… no matter how much of a longshot a win might be.  I think the few cases he ever won were flukes that came along only because they were actually innocent or the prosecution was incompetent.”</p>
<p>All of the adults were suddenly looking at one another.  I wondered if they would take the bait.  I had argued that it was too obvious of a lure… that no wizard worth his or her magic could ever fall for such an apparent ploy, but Father had ordered me to make the attempt.  I decided to throw the other shoe into the stew.</p>
<p>“It’s that or Father will accept the President’s assignment to fill the Ambassador posting here.”  That stopped all sound and motion in the room.  </p>
<p>Professor Dumont’s eyebrows almost went into her hairline.  “The American Ambassador to the United Kingdom?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Professor.”  I glanced about the room.  Nobody seemed happy about that little tidbit.  I ignored the weird look Professor Evans offered towards me.</p>
<p>“Sirius?”  Professor Dumbledore asked.</p>
<p>The unnamed dark-haired wizard answered.  Lord Sirius Black, apparently.  “I could see that happening.”  He offered after a moment of consideration.  “Munster left before a replacement was named.  I know that Spellman was considered, but she cited personal problems.  Wright didn’t just say no, but Hell no.  Gomez Addams would be a problem if he took it, but I can’t say how it would ultimately affect any votes in the Wizengamot.”</p>
<p>“Would your father accept the posting?”  Lord Potter asked from where he was standing somewhat behind Lord Black.</p>
<p>“Maybe.” was the truthful answer.  “Father has been bored lately.  He lost his last case and its final appeal spectacularly.  If he follows his normal routine, Father usually takes some time to celebrate afterwards.  I know he misses me and my younger brother since we’re both here.  There was talk of an extended vacation.  My parents haven’t been in this area since before they had children.”</p>
<p>“Would he prefer another case?”  Lord Potter pressed.  “Take on a new client instead of accepting the ambassadorship?”</p>
<p>“Mother would prefer he not accept the post.  She has never gotten along with President Picquery.  They almost had a duel to the death the last time they both attended the same social gathering.  Father receiving the posting would be an obvious ploy to get my mother out of the country for a while.”</p>
<p>There was motion from the corner of my eye.  Professor Dumbledore had gestured for something to happen.  It made me wonder what was next.</p>
<p> “That was exciting.”  Susan offered in a flat, sarcastic tone.  “I just love talking about politics.”</p>
<p>“Isn’t your Aunt employed by the Ministry of Magic?”  Padma asked.</p>
<p>“Doesn’t mean I want to talk about it.”</p>
<p>I appreciated the attempt at dry humor when my eye caught the appraising gaze of the small redhead that had approached upon the arm of Remy Black.  Very few witches or wizards had the ability to cause me to second guess myself, but staring into the brown-eyed gaze of the teenage witch was enough to send shivers up and down the my spine.  </p>
<p>Who was she?</p>
<p>“Oh, that’s Ginny Weasley.”  Susan answered.  Apparently, I had spoken the question aloud.  “She and Remy recently become betrothed.”</p>
<p>‘This’ was the Weasley girl that had escaped the stigma of Peter Pettigrew?  Something was off about this little witch.  I could feel a level of malevolence that seemed to eclipse even what Mother instilled upon those that upset her... and I had thought that such might occur to be impossible.  Ginny Weasley was dangerous on a scale that I had never encountered.</p>
<p>How had she circumvented the great Albus Dumbledore?  What hidden depths did this witch have to hold such a maelstrom of pure evil right under the nose of the supposed greatest wizard since Merlin?  </p>
<p>I was so turned on right now.  This little witch made me wonder if the Family would be okay with bringing home a wife instead of a husband.  I was definitely going to need some alone time when back in my private quarters.  </p>
<p>Taking a second look, I noticed that whatever had been in Ginny Weasley’s eyes a moment previous had vanished, almost as if it had been only a figment of my imagination.  Now, the witch was all smiles and demure submissiveness while her husband-to-be did the manly posturing and acted as a protector, ready to maybe defend little Ginny Weasley from the potentially dark Addams.  </p>
<p>Ginny waved her free hand rather than actually speaking.  I was okay with that.  If the girl actually spoke and revealed even an minute glimpse of what had been there before… well… let’s just assume that I would discover once and for all whether my tastes ran toward the fairer sex.  That and everyone else in the room would get a free show of the two of us having sex.</p>
<p>Not just yet.</p>
<p>But soon, maybe?</p>
<p>“What do you think?”  Huh?  I turned my attention away from the subject of some dark carnal desires and toward where Neville was watching me intently; apparently awaiting a response to the question he had just posed.  </p>
<p>“I apologize.  My mind was elsewhere.  What did you ask?”</p>
<p>The Boy-Who-Lived gave what I could only assume was his attempt at a flirtatious smile.  “I had asked if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me… with us.”  He corrected as the girls around him all snickered softly behind their hands.  “Or Diagon Alley.  See something a bit more than the stone walls of the school?”</p>
<p>“I’m not so sure.”  I tried to wave the offer away.  “My studies and apprenticeship keep me very busy.”</p>
<p>Professor Lupin, the Understanding Muggles instructor, drew closer to be included in the current discussion.  “Come now, Miss Addams.  Surely, you can take a day to relax.  All work and no play?  You aren’t imprisoned here.  You should look to relax.  Take a Saturday, for yourself.”</p>
<p>“See?”  Neville crowed triumphantly.  “Even the teachers think you should take a break.”</p>
<p>“One professor that is over a class that I neither assist with nor require in my challenge does not an argument make.”  I narrowed my eyes slightly towards quite possibly the most famous wizarding teenager alive today.  </p>
<p>“But I am.”  Professor Dumbledore spoke, drawing the attention back towards the powerful man.  “I am afraid that the Headmistress has scheduled the faculty with several tasks this upcoming weekend.  The Junior Professors and you were not invited, as I believe that you all will be a topic of discussion.  Perhaps you should consider the offer?”</p>
<p>“Please.”  Susan pleaded.  “We need another female to balance out the testosterone that seems to fill our outings.”</p>
<p>“You should come.”  Padma added.</p>
<p>I dared a look towards where Ginny Weasley stood.  The young witch was watching with what appeared to only be mild interest, but after catching my gaze, she offered an almost imperceptible nod to join.  Hooked.</p>
<p>“All right.”  I finally gave in.</p>
<p>The group all smiled at my giving in.  Neville seemed to take the acquiescence as a personal victory and now sported a very self-satisfied smirk.  Several of the adults around the room also seemed unnaturally pleased with the decision.  It was strange to have so many people, not Family, focused upon what initially appeared as an inconsequential choice to join a bunch of teens acting like young adults… unless it was more to getting me out of the castle.  Very strange indeed.</p>
<p>The impromptu introduction seemed to break up shortly after plans had been made.  Susan and Padma had assured me that I would understand the ratio of males to females when the rest of the group would meet up with us at Honeydukes, a sweetshop of some sort.  As they were finalizing their schedule, several of the adults made a point of properly introducing themselves.  Beyond Lords Black, Potter and Longbottom… I met Auror Tonks (no first name and the daughter of the Intro into Magical Society Professor) and the former Defense instructor, Auror Shacklebolt.  After that, many of the names and faces began to blur.</p>
<p>I took a deep breath as the room emptied.  Politics was never a game enjoyed, though both Mother and Father had explained the necessity of understanding how it had to be played if one wished to survive past their enemies.  Mother had impressed upon me the potential unseen dangers that the title of Sorceress would bring.</p>
<p>“Too much at once?”  Professor Evans had not yet left.  In fact, the two of us were the only ones still within the Transfiguration Classroom.</p>
<p>“Professor.  My apologies.  I thought I was alone.”</p>
<p>“It’s fine.”  The attractive redheaded Professor of Muggle Studies and Education was sitting on the corner of the desk, her posture relaxed and non-threatening.  It was fake.  I watched as the older witch and third Potions Master that the school boasted waved her hand negligently.  “I can remember the first time Albus tried to recruit me.”</p>
<p>“Recruit?”</p>
<p>“Please, Miss Addams.  I’m no fool, and I can clearly tell that neither are you.  You realized what this was two seconds after you arrived.”</p>
<p>Ah.  I bowed slightly.  “All right.  You caught me.”  Professor Evans merely arched her right eyebrow in response.  “Mother and Father did exhaustive research about the political climate here before agreeing to my acceptance of Hogwart’s offer.  The Order of the Phoenix came up a lot regarding Tom Riddle’s incarceration.”  At naming Riddle, I saw the older witch’s nostrils flare and the slight tightening of her green eyes… eyes that I once looked into quite often.  </p>
<p>Once, long ago. I missed looking into Harry’s eyes.</p>
<p>Not this time.</p>
<p>“Oh?  Do tell.”</p>
<p>“It is nothing that you do not already know, Professor.”  I responded.  “Professor Dumbledore is infamous for drawing wizards and witches into his various personal causes.  In this case, which has been his apparent primary focus for decades now, his cause is the final defeat of the current Dark Lord who he and the rest of the Magical World believe to be Tom Riddle.”</p>
<p>“You think differently?”</p>
<p>That was a trap.  An obvious one.  “I would not presume to second guess the Grand Sorcerer” was the diplomatic answer.  “There is a prophecy.  Events have played out that appear to support his interpretation of said prophecy.  Who am I to disagree?”</p>
<p>“Who are you indeed?”  The once Lady Potter said softly, almost as if it was not meant to be spoken aloud for me to hear.  I wondered if now was the time for her to let me in on her problem with me.</p>
<p>“Professor?”  She ignored me, asking instead “Have you met Professor Trelawney?  The Divination Professor?”</p>
<p>At the abrupt change of subject, I felt the passive face I usually offered crack.  I knew that my visage showed only confusion to the older witch.</p>
<p>“Briefly.”  I carefully admitted.  “She tends to avoid me.”  That the old drunkard wanted nothing to do with me was an understatement of massive proportions.  </p>
<p>During the first couple of days at Hogwart’s, I had made every effort to introduce myself to the many professors and teachers that made up the school’s staff.  The half-giant groundskeeper, a Mister Hagrid, had been a test in patience.  The werewolf professor was a welcome reminder of home... though I still did not know his true name.  Even the creature masquerading as the Flying Instructor offered a taste of the familiar.  The Divination teacher had been a complete failure.</p>
<p>It made sense, in an obvious sort of way once you considered the various possibilities.  Divination required one’s Singularity to touch the Divine.  The future was subject to the whims of those that ruled and traversed the Above and the Below.  It was not for those of mortal lives to comprehend, much less try to manipulate.  Professor Trelawney was a True Seer of some type.  </p>
<p>How much of one, though?  I did not know, but that the Divination Professor had already delivered prophecy before was enough that somewhere in the teacher’s past (or an ancestor’s if I was being honest ) a Bargain with something else had been made… and that something else was somehow in direct opposition to mine.</p>
<p>“She is a difficult person to get to know.”  Professor Evans agreed.  “Her classes were a test of patience at the best of times.”  I remained silent, curious as to where this going.  “I only bring her up because she said something to me in my Fourth Year, right before I dropped her class, in fact.”</p>
<p>“Oh?”</p>
<p>The witch nodded.  “I went to her on the last day of class and explained that I would not be taking Divination during my O.W.L. Year.  I explained that I appreciated her time and instruction, but that I felt I wasn’t meant to know the future.”  She redhead paused.  “She told me that while I may never know prophecy, that prophecy would always know me.”</p>
<p>“I don’t get it.”  Confusion colored my tone.  “Sounds like the general mumbo-jumbo charlatans are often spouting during carnivals.”</p>
<p>“True, but she got a far off look in her eyes, like I wasn’t there any longer.  I remember everything so clearly.  Her voice went very… like, monotone maybe.  Sybill told me that my greatest loss could be the world’s greatest gain if only I could accept that the dark should defeat the light.”</p>
<p>“What does that mean?”</p>
<p>“I’ve no idea.”  She admitted.  “I went to Dumbledore about it.  He had no idea, although he was very interested.”  Lily Evans stood from the desk’s corner and began to pace.  “For years, I tried to figure it out.  Every time I lost something important, I wondered if that was what she meant.  I lost my first childhood friend the next year.  My firstborn was taken from me before he turned two years old.  My marriage failed.  My son’s rightful inheritance is being questioned.  My reputation is under fire.  Which loss was meant to go to the world?  Had it even happened yet?  Why should the dark win?”</p>
<p>“Forgive me, Professor, but why are you telling me all of this?”  Her dark green eyes met my palest of green eyes then.  A green gazes that were so close in clarity, yet that were so dissimilar that neither should ever be compared with the other.  Not without something fundamentally changing. </p>
<p>“Because two days after meeting you, a completely sober and very terrified Professor Trelawney left her self-imposed seclusion, came down from the safety of her tower… all in order to directly ask me how I was coping having to suffer my greatest loss returned to me.  She wanted to know how I was able to interact with you being at Hogwart’s.”</p>
<p>“What?”  This was not happening.</p>
<p>“Who are you?  I have lost friends that I thought would be with me always and a husband that I loved like no other, not to mention my son.  My beautiful baby boy.  Gone.  My life is in ruin.  All gone.  </p>
<p>“Why are you, Wednesday Addams, supposed to be my greatest loss?”</p>
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